


Destinies Reunited

by CedarWoodwalker



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 08:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CedarWoodwalker/pseuds/CedarWoodwalker
Summary: For 1400 years, Merlin waited for Arthur's return so he can fulfill his destiny. Magic has been all but extinguished, and Merlin doesn't know when or how Arthur will return, nor how they will unite Albion. Such things aren't really solved with swords anymore.  When Arthur does return, Merlin realizes he's got a lot to catch up on before they can even think about uniting Albion. Pairings eventually.





	1. Chapter 1

“Thank you,” Merlin said to the cashier as he put away his change and moved to pick up his reusable bags. The young cashier bit her pierced lip as she worriedly watched Merlin’s boney arms shake as he reached for his groceries. She ran her hand through her short cherry red hair as her eyes darted up to his heaving chest and wrinkled face and she watched him take a deep raspy breath. His long white hair and beard were mussed, and his back hunched with age.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with those?” she asked with concern in her voice.

“Oh no, no, I’ll be fine,” he said gruffly before grunting as he hoisted up his bags. The cashier nodded but held out an arm as if she expected him to fall over. Merlin walked away strenuously, aware of the concerned glances in his direction. He faked a slight limp from the extra weight of the bags, barely hiding his mischievous grin behind his long white beard. His glassy blue eyes darted across the other customers as they hurriedly jumped out of his way. He caught the laugh that had slipped past his teeth just in time to change it into a sputtering cough.

He knew, of course, that while he was, in fact, far older than anyone would believe, his muscles and bones were still perfectly capable of lifting a couple of grocery bags. Even if he had lost his strength, it wouldn’t matter because he was using his magic to hold the bags up. It was a bit lazy of him, sure, but he had just completed a large shop up and had a reasonable walk home. He smiled because even after so many years of masquerading as his old disguise of Dragoon, Merlin still enjoyed playing the part of a feeble old man when he in fact had more power than any of these people could imagine. It was fun to take advantage of the excuses gained with age without suffering many of the negatives.

His thoughts drifted far into the past and he smiled as he recalled spurring Arthur on with his heels when in the disguise of a tired old sorcerer in need of a piggyback ride. All those years ago, grinning from Prince Arthur’s royal back, Merlin had mused how such behavior would never grow old, and indeed it had not. The memory of his old friend quickly turned and sent a pang through his chest as well as a solemn expression across his face. Merlin shook his head, as if to send those painful memories away. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

Gwen.

Merlin turned to get a proper look. The young woman had turned, and Merlin could now only see the back of her head. Styles had changed immensely since he had last seen Guinevere, and the Gwen that he knew would never wear her hair up in a high bun like this woman, but there was a sense of familiarity that Merlin could not shake.

Forgetting to keep up the appearance of being an old man, Merlin quickened his pace and followed her. As if on cue, a mass of shoppers came from the stores on either side of him and pushed in between him and the woman he presumed to be Gwen. Merlin tried to push through the crowd, but his grocery bags slowed him down. Every now and again he would catch a glimpse of her, but one moment she would be nearby on his right and the next faraway on his left.

Eventually, he lost sight of her completely and stood wildly looking around. Again, he caught the briefest glimpse of dark hair in a high bun and quickly pushed his way to her. When he finally caught up to her, he slid his bags up onto his forearm and grabbed hold of her wrist. The woman in front of him jumped and tore her arm from his grasp as she turned to look at him. Merlin caught a glimpse of a face as pale as ivory and stumbled backwards as if he’d been struck. The woman in front of him certainly looked familiar but was not the friendly face he thought he was pursuing. Her look of defensive fright quickly changed to one of concern as she turned and saw a very old man stumble backwards.

“Are you alright?” She asked with an Irish accent as she reached out to help him balance himself, but the sound of her voice pierced through Merlin’s shock and brought him back to reality. Quickly remembering his disguise, Merlin stumbled forward with a long groaning grunt, pushed past her, and hobbled away.

The woman watched him go with a startled expression and when he was gone, she looked to her friend and asked, “What did he say?”

The woman who responded was tall and blonde with striking dark eyes. “It didn’t seem like words to me,” she remarked as she pushed a fallen strand of jet-black hair behind her friend’s ear. “He probably mistook you for someone from his past. Come, we’ve still got a lot to do.” Without waiting for a response, she turned to walk away. She looked over her shoulder to find her friend staring after the old man in a daze. She walked back and placed a hand on her shoulder. “What is it, sister?”

The dark-haired woman shook her head, causing the strand of hair to fall back over her face. “No, it’s nothing,” she responded. “He just seemed familiar, is all.”

The blond-haired woman smiled, tucked the fallen strand behind her sister’s ear once more and lead her into a nearby store.

Once Merlin had put a substantial distance between himself and the raven-haired woman, he slowed down and strained his neck to get a glance of Guinevere. He found himself glancing back towards the woman he had mistaken for her, wondering if he had really seen who he thought he had. He shook his head again and searched for Gwen. Becoming quite fed up with the situation and his hands growing sore from pulling along his floating groceries, Merlin’s eyes flashed a golden glow as he slowed time and focused on finding Gwen. He found her on the other side of the plaza, exiting a store carrying some lilies with a smile on her face. Merlin watched as she moved towards the exit, and he hurried to follow. By the time he had pushed his way through the throng of people, however, he had lost sight of her. Disgruntled and questioning his eyes, he began his walk home.

Throughout the course of his walk home, Merlin could not get his mind off what he’d seen in the square. For centuries, he had been waiting for Arthur to return as foretold, but even after all this time, Merlin was unsure as to when or how Arthur’s return would occur. Sometimes he worried he had somehow missed it, perhaps while he was away from Albion exploring the rest of the world. His lack of knowledge was not for lack of trying, however. Merlin had spent years at a time scouring libraries, searching out ancient tomes, and speaking to every creature of the Old Religion that he could find. It was not that he had no information, in fact, in some ways he had too much. He had at least eleven different ways that Arthur may return and hundreds, if not thousands, of dates on which he would, most of which had long since passed. Which theory or myth was true, Merlin could not be sure. Today’s shop-up was, in fact, a much-needed break from a days-long examination of every piece of Arthurian lore he had. He was starting to wonder if his research, combined with a dangerous pairing of lack of sleep and reminiscing, had made him see things – people – that were not actually there.

Although… It was possible… Several of his informants had been sure that those that were integral to the progression of King Arthur’s story would be reincarnated in the future to help him once he did return to Albion. While Merlin held these theories with a certain level of dubiousness, he had always hoped that they would be the ones to come to fruition. How he would love to see his friends again, but the thought of it often brought too much pain for Merlin to be able to think about it for long. These theories were therefore some of his least studied and mostly came out when he was feeling alone after several glasses of wine.

Merlin chewed on his lower lip as he considered the possibility. If those theories were true, then that could have been Gwen that he saw… But what would he have done if he had caught up with her? Would she have the memories of the Gwen that he had known? Even if she had, she wouldn’t have recognized him as he was. If she didn’t… would those memories come back? Or would he have to start anew with her and pretend that they hadn’t been close friends over a thousand years ago? That thought was painful, possibly more painful than the thought of never seeing her again.

And what of the other woman that he had seen? Had that really been Morgana? These theories had given Merlin hope that he may see his friends again, but it had never occurred to him that his old foes may return as well. Thinking about her and the pain she had brought to his loved ones brought a fearful cold throughout his body. But Morgana had not always been like that. She had a good heart that became twisted and deformed by hatred. She was not the only magical person to suffer that fate; many had done so in response to the war that Uther Pendragon had waged upon their kind. Many more would do so again and again as they were persecuted throughout history. Merlin’s thoughts wandered back to the naïve decisions he had made during Arthur’s lifetime. Perhaps if he had been wiser, people with magic would not have suffered for all these centuries; if Arthur had brought magic back to Albion back then, they would now be able to use their magic without fear. Now, those with magic, the few that were left, were in just as bad of a situation as they were in Uther’s time, if not worse. Merlin no longer even knew what would happen if his secret was exposed, because magic had been purged from Albion for so long that adults no longer believed in it, let alone feared it.

Perhaps, Merlin wondered, his mind returning to his previous train of thought, without Uther’s hateful influence, Morgana could be a strong ally in the upcoming fight for magic. But then a thought crossed Merlin’s mind that was so terrible that he stopped dead in his tracks.

What if Uther is reincarnated?

Merlin shuddered at the thought at how much more difficult his job was going to be if that was the case. Arthur had always been at his best when he was thinking for himself and doing what he believed to be right rather than listening to his father. Theirs was a complicated relationship, but in the end, Arthur loved his father and desired his approval. That was a weakness that held Arthur back from being the king that he was destined to be. If Uther returned…

Merlin sighed and shook his head. He looked up to continue walking and realized that he was so engrossed in his thoughts that he had missed the turnoff to his cottage by several hundred meters. He sighed again as he turned around to walk home.

The next several weeks went by with little of consequence occurring. Merlin spent most of his time bent over his research. The few times he did leave his cottage, he did not see anyone from his life in Camelot. He was, however, seeing them quite often in his dreams. The occurrence had sparked a renewed interest in the reincarnation theories of Arthur’s return. Merlin spent a lot of time pondering the nature of reincarnation and who would be reincarnated, but his resources proved to be vague and rather unhelpful. Many sources depicted Arthur rising from the lake in which he had been laid to rest. Merlin wondered if this was a metaphor for reincarnation or if he should be expecting Arthur to walk out of the lake one day, dressed in the armor in which he had died. He had always felt that no matter the manner of return, it would most likely happen where Arthur had died. So, he built his cottage on the edge of the lake centuries ago.

Merlin had led an interesting life since the final battle against Morgana. He had returned to Camelot a bearer of bad news, but he continued to serve Gwen. She had ruled well and brought magic back to the land, but it was not to last. After she passed, Merlin continued to serve the rulers of Camelot as a royal adviser. Merlin had not known about his immortality but began to wonder as he watched all his friends die and yet he remained. He looked old, yes, but he suffered not the tiredness and frailty that comes with old age. Eventually, he sought out the druids, those that called him Emerys, and learned that Emerys is a word for immortal. Whether or not he was truly immortal, Merlin did not know, but he continued living year after year, decade after decade, century after century. Merlin stayed in Camelot for generations and he became somewhat of a legend as townsfolk created myths about his real age and origin. Merlin learned, though, if you live longer than every other person, there is nobody who knows how old you truly are and while his life was surrounded by myth, most people were too polite to question him directly, and those that did were usually silenced by his huffy outrage.

Eventually, Camelot fell, and Merlin moved on. After living in several different kingdoms, he began to have trouble living as mysteriously as he was accustomed. His reputation, it seemed, preceded him. He decided to try a reverse aging spell, and to his surprise, it was not as difficult as the aging spell he used to first become Dragoon, and it quickly became permanent, so it did not take much energy at all. He decided to go by the name of Myrrdin and start life anew in a far-off kingdom. And that is how Merlin had lived; living out lifetimes until he was old and wrinkly before taking the appearance of the young warlock that Arthur had known. It was always a shock to see his young face again, and during the first several years of each transition, he found himself thinking of his old friends more often than usual. Over the centuries, Merlin had travelled through most of the world, learned many languages, and spent many an hour hunched over dusty old tomes.

With the rise of organized governments and public history records, Merlin’s life became a lot harder. Once he got the hang of it, though, with a bit of creative problem solving and a lot of magic, he managed to forge all the documents he needed to remain independent and unsuspecting. Every lifetime or so, he would forge a new birth certificate, change to his young self, and change his name. Of course, the recent advances in technology had made things even more difficult, but Merlin made sure to keep up with it, adapted quickly, and found that the technology, combined with his magic of course, often made his job easier. He now spent less time sneaking into public offices to forge documents, as he could often use magic to do so from the comfort of his own home.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin absentmindedly sat staring at his bowl of Weetabix one morning, thinking through the many lives he’d led. When he snapped out of his memories, he looked down to see that his cereal, having been soaking in his milk for too long, had become a mushy mess. He grimaced and forced himself to finish his goopy cereal quickly. He rinsed his dishes, put them in the dish washer, grabbed his reusable bags, and walked to the market.

Merlin spent most of his time at the grocery store in the cheese department. He had already picked out the rest of his groceries and decided to treat himself to some nice cheeses. He had been looking through all the different kinds for at least fifteen minutes and had an armful of cheese. He had just settled on a lovely triple cream brie as his last variety when he turned around to go back to his trolley. As he turned however, someone ran right into him, pushing him to the side and causing him to drop the ten different varieties of cheese he was holding. Merlin glared after the person who had run into him without even apologizing. He groaned as he bent down to collect up his items.

“Here, let me help you with that,” a man said with a hint of an accent. Merlin looked up to make eye contact with the warmest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“Lancelot,” he breathed.

“Pardon?” the brunette furrowed his brow as he picked up a wedge of parmesan.

“Uh, I-I said, ‘thanks a lot,’” Merlin stammered, feeling extremely flustered and awkward standing before an old friend who obviously didn’t recognize him. Well, of course he doesn’t recognize you, you were a young man when you last saw him, Merlin thought, but it wasn’t as if he could turn back into the Merlin that Lancelot would recognize right here in the middle of the dairy department.

Lancelot smiled at Merlin in response and picked up Merlin’s brie, the last of the cheese. “This is an excellent brie,” he said, looking at the label. “It is from my home town, actually.” He stood up and continued to smile at Merlin. “Here, is this your trolley?”

Merlin simply nodded as he found himself completely speechless. His silence didn’t faze Lancelot, who placed the armful of cheese into the cart.

“Are you here by yourself?” he asked, and again Merlin nodded.

Lancelot’s smile widened and he insisted on helping Merlin with the rest of it. Merlin protested, but to no avail, and found himself trailing behind Lancelot, who was pushing the trolley. His mind was racing through a million questions, none of which he could ask, and providing him with nothing to say to Lancelot. The other man didn’t seem bothered though. He preceded to strike up a conversation about the only information he had about this old stranger; that he was buying a ridiculous amount of cheese. Merlin was struggling with his own thoughts so much that he failed to listen to what Lancelot was saying, but he did manage to grunt and mumble several replies.

They went through the redheaded woman’s checkout, and she looked relieved to see that Merlin had someone assisting him this time. By the time they had finished at the checkout and Merlin had paid, he had managed to pull himself together a bit more. He was not about to lose his first real and definitely-not a hallucination lead in 1000 years because of a bit of shock. He was determined to find out as much about this new Lancelot as he could. Merlin bent down to pick up his bags, but Lancelot beat him to it, taking most of the groceries and leaving Merlin with only the two lightest to carry.

“It’s great to see so many people opting for reusable bags instead of plastic ones nowadays,” Lancelot said, having run out of cheese-related topics.

“Oh, yes, well when you’ve lived as long as I have, you can see the impact that every person makes on the planet,” Merlin replied. “But I can take it from here, thank you for your help.”

“Are you driving home?” Lancelot questioned, searching the parking lot for an unknown car. When Merlin shook his head, Lancelot insisted that he help Merlin carry the groceries home. Merlin caved, if only to have more time to get information.

After a minute or so of silence, Merlin spoke up to ask, “What was your name, young man?”

“Lance, sir,” he replied. “And yours?”

Merlin squinted at him, to make sure that he was seeing who he thought he was. But he was positive, it had been a long time, but he was positive that this was his dear friend Lancelot – of course a young man in 2019 wouldn’t go by that full name though.

“Hmmm?” Lance asked again. When he was met with a confused look, he repeated, “Your name?”

“Oh, Mer –” Merlin stopped halfway through, catching himself but completely blanking on his current pseudo name. “… name is Bedwyr.” Merlin finished, now feeling self-conscious about his tongue-in-cheek reference to his past.

“Bedwyr?” Lancelot paused for a moment. “Wasn’t he a Knight of Camelot? Quite a Welsh name, isn’t it? You don’t seem to have much of the accent though. Did you grow up here?”

“No, I didn’t. I grew up in a small village, not too far from here but not within Whales.” Merlin paused, trying to place Lancelot’s hint of an accent. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m from France,” Lance smiled. “I came here to go to graduate school.”

“Oh.” Merlin furrowed his brow in thought. “What are you studying?”

“Conservational biology,” Lance replied, his face lighting up at the thought of it. A wide smile spread across Merlin’s face. This young man was certainly filled with the soul of Sir Lancelot. In the middle ages his dream was to become a knight of Camelot to help others, and in the 21st century he was working towards helping the planet.

“That must be interesting. What sort of job are you looking to get?”

The conversation turned rather jovial as the two asked questions back and forth. Merlin often stumbled over his responses – it had been so long since he’d had such a long conversation with someone that he had trouble remembering his fake backstory.

“Do you live around here?” Merlin asked.

“No, I live over on the other side of town, but my partner just moved into the area.”

“Oh?” Merlin raised his brow. “Here.” He pointed down his driveway.

Once Merlin had unlocked the door, Lance placed the bags on Merlin’s kitchen table, admiring his house full of odds and ends. Merlin tried to offer him a drink of water or some money as a thank you for the help, but Lance shook his head and refused politely before leaving.

Merlin flopped down on his couch, his mind spinning with the insanity of meeting one of his best friends hundreds of years after he died. Arthur must be returning soon, he thought, his body buzzing with an anxious excitement.

Merlin could not get to sleep. He had been lying in bed for hours. He’d tried reading his most boring text, but he had become engrossed in it for the first time. But it was 3:30 in the morning and his eyes were too tired to read any more. His mind was now buzzing with all of the new information he had, and he knew there was no way sleep was coming now.

He sighed and got out of bed and pulled a long jacket on over his pajamas, slipped on some shoes, and headed outside for a walk. Merlin walked along the thin tree lined path that led down to the lakefront. He often came down here to think.

As he came out of the forest, he was surprised to see a bright green light glowing in the sky above the lake. His jaw hung slightly ajar as he took in the wavering green glow and he smiled. Perhaps it wasn’t too bad that he couldn’t get to sleep. He smiled and reflected on how long it had been since he had seen the Northern Lights – they weren’t often visible from Wales. As he watched, though, something began to seem strange. The glow wasn’t shining in the sky like the northern lights. It didn’t waver in the same vertical way, in fact, it seemed to be coming from the lake itself. Merlin furrowed his brow as he cocked his head to the side, intensely watching the glow become even brighter.

Suddenly, the green light blew into a bright yellow and even further into a blinding white light that lit up the night sky. Merlin lifted his arm to shield his eyes. He walked closer to edge of the water.

Merlin.

Merlin jumped as he heard his name spoken in his own mind.

It’s almost time, Merlin. The woman’s voice was familiar and reassuring. Squinting into the dazzling light, Merlin could just see the outline of an arm holding up a sword.

“Freya,” Merlin whispered. He had spent many nights by the side of the lake talking to his first love, but he was never sure if she was still there.

You must take this now Merlin. Your King will soon return. Merlin pulled himself together and, with a flash of his blue eyes, the sword gently floated over to him. Merlin took the sword in his hand and examined it. Freya had kept the sword safe for over a thousand years. It’s bright silver and gold shone beautifully in the white light. Gwen’s father had made this sword, and Merlin had strengthened it with the fire of Kilgarrah, one of the last dragons to live in Albion. It was a fine sword, and it certainly seemed to be time it returned to its rightful owner, Arthur Pendragon.

As quickly as it had come, the brilliant white light faded to yellow and then green until there was just the faintest glow above the lake’s surface.

“Thank you, Freya,” Merlin said as he turned back towards his cottage. So I was right, Merlin thought, It is now time for Arthur to return to Albion. I wonder how much longer he’ll be. When he arrived back at his home, Merlin was feeling heavy with sleep. He made sure to lock the door behind him, placed the sword next to his bed, and went to sleep, forgetting to remove his coat and shoes.

The next morning, as Merlin slowly woke, fuzzy memories of the events at the lake came back to him. What a strange dream… he mused as his eyes flickered open. He rolled over and saw Excalibur sitting next to his bed before bolting up right. He reached for his jacket before realizing that he was already wearing it and looked down curiously at his shoes and back at his bed. Had he really gone to bed like this?

He shrugged it off and sped down his path to the waterfront. He burst out the other side of the path, calling Freya’s name, his voice deep with desperation. There were several groups of people lounging on the small beach, including a young couple strolling the water’s edge and a family having a picnic. As they turned to stare at him, he realized what a big scene he was causing and sat down on the sand. He held his head in his hands, as if trying to stop calm his racing mind.  
Arthur’s return is nigh.

Further along the beach, Morgana and Morgause were sunbathing. Morgana sat up to look at what the commotion was.

“Isn’t that the man who bumped into you at the plaza a few weeks ago?” Morgause asked as she shaded her eyes with her.

“I think he is…” Morgana wondered.

“Poor thing must be senile. Probably looking for his wife,” Morgause mused apathetically.

“He must live around here… It’s strange I haven’t seen him before.”

“Maybe you have – maybe that’s why he looked so familiar.”

“Oh, that must be it,” Morgana smiled, nodding nervously. That’s much less alarming than recognizing him from my nightmares, she thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Freya gently nudged Merlin’s shoulder.

“Wake up, boys.”

Merlin gave her a sleepy smile as he stretched his arms and back.

As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, Freya shook Arthur’s shoulder saying, “It’s time to get up. We have much to do.”

Arthur stirred but didn’t wake. Merlin yawned sleepily.

“Come on, it’s time to wake up. Time to wake up.”

When he opened his eyes again, his room was dark, and Arthur and Freya were nowhere to be seen. Alarmed by the realism of the dream, Merlin shook his head before rolling over and closing his eyes.  
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard Freya’s voice once again say, “It’s time to wake up.”

Merlin’s eyes shot open. Time to wake up? Was this it? Was Arthur going to wake? Merlin wasn’t totally sure whether Freya’s voice was a dream or real, but he wasn’t going to chance it. Merlin rushed through his door again only pausing to throw on some boots and a jacket.

When he pushed through the overgrown branches at the end of the path between his cottage and the lake, Merlin immediately noticed the green glow around the lake that had been present when he had received Excalibur from Freya. He tried to contact Freya with his magic, but he was quite out of practice of communicating with others who had magic and was unsuccessful. It felt as though Freya was too busy to receive his thoughts.

Merlin could sense that something was happening, though. There was a sort of unseen energy rippling through the air. He sat down on the beach and waited. After a while, Merlin found a stick and began drawing druid symbols in the sand to keep his mind and hands occupied. Eventually Merlin glanced up at the lake and paused. The green glow coming off the water’s surface seemed to be brighter than it was before. He stuck his stick in the sand and walked down to the water’s edge slowly. He searched the horizon for any movement but didn’t see any. Not even a solitary ripple. Merlin realized the night was extremely still. There were no birds visible or audible, no sounds of nocturnal animals moving through the forest. It was as if Merlin was the only living thing there.  
Then the green glow turned to yellow then a blinding white light that filled the sky. Merlin shielded his eyes again, but the brilliant light only lasted but a second before it narrowed and centered itself in a pillar on the lake’s surface, with the yellow and green glow gently illuminating the area. As quickly as it came, the light vanished and, just visible in the glow, the silhouette of a dory bobbed on the surface of the lake, creating small waves that lapped against Merlin’s boots.

Merlin squinted, trying to see past the burn marks that the light had left on his vision. He could feel that something had happened. The atmosphere had changed, but he wasn’t sure how. As Merlin’s eyes adapted back to the dim lighting, he could just make out the silhouette of the boat in which he had sent Arthur to his water burial. 

“Arthur!” Merlin whispered, a smile growing across his face. Tears began to well up in his eyes before he had a chance to stop them. “Arthur!” he bellowed, as loud as he could.  
The boat was drawing closer and he was starting to be able to see more details. He saw a dark arm rise over the side of the boat and settle down on edge, and then another on the other side. Slowly, he watched as a head appeared over the edge as well. The figure in the boat moved stiffly, with little speed but much determination.

“Arthur!” Merlin called again, grinning ear to ear, waving his arms above his head.

Arthur, lying in the bottom of the boat, was woken up by the call of his name. When he came into consciousness, he was greeted with an earth-shattering headache. His eyes flickered open for a moment, but the light that greeted him brought another shot of pain ripping through his head.

But someone was calling his name with a tone of urgency. He tried to remember where he was and what had happened, but all he could find was darkness. When he moved to stretch his muscles, he found that they all ached with stiffness, as if he’d been sleeping on a rock. He tried opening just his right eye this time, just a crack. As his eye adjusted, he slowly opened it more and was able to get a glimpse around him.

Slowly, he reached one heavy arm up and then the other, grabbing hold of either side of the boat. With great difficulty, he hoisted his upper body up, until he could see over the edge of the boat. He had both eyes half open, squinted against the green light.

He had a quick look around himself to find that he was on a lake, a fair distance from the shore. Even more confused, he squinted a bit harder at the shore, where a dark figure was standing. Whoever it was called his name again and waved their arms over their head. As his eyes adjusted more, he could see this man had long hair and a long beard. Then it dawned on Arthur who that man was. He felt rage fill his chest as he looked at the man who killed his father.

“You!” he managed to spit before he lost the strength in his arms and fell back into his boat.

Back on the shore, Merlin had heard Arthur speak, but he didn’t hear what was said. When Arthur’s head fell back out of Merlin’s vision, he furrowed his brow with concern. As he took a step into the shallow water, he realized that his appearance was not of the Merlin that Arthur had known. As the cold water began to seep into his shoes, a cold knot grew in his stomach as he remembered that Arthur would recognize him, but certainly not as an ally. Merlin quickly cast his de-aging spell and groaned as his body changed. He ran his hand across his face and felt smooth young skin. Feeling more confident again, he called out Arthur’s name once more.

Arthur was trying to catch his breath as he lay on the bottom of the boat. He was sure that the old sorcerer standing on the beach was responsible for whatever had happened to him, if only he could just remember. A familiar voice then broke through the darkness in his mind.

Merlin? Arthur half spoke, half thought. Again, with a little more fluidity, Arthur pulled himself up and peered over the edge of the boat towards the shore. Surely enough, Merlin stood on the shore waving to him, his smile evident in his voice as he yelled Arthur’s name again. Arthur smiled back despite himself, but then remembered the sorcerer. He quickly scanned the shore, but he didn’t see any other movement.

“Merlin! Be careful,” Arthur sputtered, his throat and voice hoarse. “The sorcerer… Merlin, the sorcerer, watch out!”

Merlin’s smile disappeared as he worked out Arthur’s meaning. So, he had recognized Merlin’s older form – his old disguise. His heart dropped into his stomach as he remembered Arthur’s opinion of his old disguise, which had become a large part of Merlin’s identity over his centuries of life. The sick feeling that he always got when he lied to Arthur returned, and Merlin realized there was at least one thing he didn’t miss about his old life in Camelot.

“It’s okay,” he called back hesitantly. “He’s gone. I…. he’s gone, Arthur.” He saw Arthur’s head bob up and down as a sign of acceptance. The boat was slowly drifting towards the shore, but it would take hours to reach it. “Is there an oar in your boat?” Merlin paused to wait for a response. “Arthur, can you paddle to shore?”

Again, there was no answer, but after a while, Merlin heard Arthur rummaging in the boat and he eventually held up a wooden oar. Arthur laboriously sat himself up in the boat, sitting on the bottom and leaning back against the side for support. He slowly started rowing towards the shore.

“Merlin,” Arthur called after a minute or so. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Merlin responded.

“Why am I laying down in a boat in the middle of the lake? Why do I feel like I’ve been asleep for days? Why don’t I remember what happened?”

“Oh… that,” Merlin said, half to Arthur and half to himself. How was he going to explain that? Before he could answer, Arthur slumped backwards against the side of the boat, his oar fell into the water with a loud splash, and his head lolled forward against his chest.

“Arthur!” Merlin began running into the lake.

“I’m okay,” Arthur spluttered as he picked his head back up. “I… I’m sorry… I just… d-don’t… feel too well.” He pushed himself back up and reached for his oar, which was floating several feet away from him now. He looked dumbly between his oar floating in the water and his empty hand. “Oh dear…” He began slowly rummaging around in the boat for another oar.

Merlin, his patience wearing thin, rolled his eyes and held his hand outstretched in front of him. “Æsc sé ærenscip,” he breathed, and with a flash of his eyes, the oar moved back to the boat and began paddling back to shore on its own.

Arthur jumped backwards, shocked. “Merlin? How?” His eyes darted between the rowing oar and Merlin standing on the beach, his arm still outstretched. “Merlin! Did you…?”  
In a rush, it all came back to him. The battle; Mordred stabbing him in the stomach; Merlin’s confession of being a warlock. Arthur fell backwards against the boat, feeling all the hurt and betrayal that he had centuries before. He looked back at Merlin on the shore, feeling like his heart was torn in two.

Merlin himself had seen his king’s reaction, lowered his arm, and was looking sheepishly at his feet. Arthur watched him shift from one foot to the other as more memories came pouring in. Merlin dragging him through the woods… blurry memories… so blurry he wasn’t sure they were real… almost as if… he had been drifting in and out of consciousness. He remembered lying on the beach, clutched against Merlin’s chest, tears running down both of their cheeks. And then, a sharp and painful, nothing. He shot upright so fast his head swam.

“Merlin!” he yelled. “Did I die?”

Merlin looked up at him, grief and guilt twisting his face. “Yes. I’m sorry.” Merlin’s voice cracked. “I did everything I could to stop it.”

Arthur looked Merlin up and down. His boat was close enough now that they could see each other’s faces in the green glow of the lake. His heart softened as he looked at his friend’s furrowed brows and watery eyes.

“You really did, didn’t you?” Arthur couldn’t stop a small smile from crossing over his mouth as Merlin nodded vigorously, wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve. There was a short silence as Arthur mulled over this news. “Where are we then? Is this heaven? Did you die too?”

Merlin looked at him, surprised. He guessed it wasn’t fair for him to expect Arthur to figure it out on his own. He had never known about his destiny, and he had always been rather clueless, after all.

“No,” Merlin answered. “We’re alive, this is Earth.”

“What do you mean? How…? I died, but you’re saying I’m alive?”

“Yes. You still have to fulfill your destiny, Arthur. So, you’ve been brought back to us.”

Arthur stared at Merlin, unsure of how to deal with this man who looked and sounded like Merlin but seemed somehow older and… dare he think it… wiser. “Are you serious? Or is Gwaine hiding in the bushes giggling?”

“I’m completely serious, Arthur,” Merlin said with a smirk on his face, which caused Arthur to raise his eyebrows dubiously. Merlin did his best to straighten out his face before added seriously, “I promise.” Arthur furrowed his brow. “I’ll prove it in the morning, but I think we should get some rest first.”

“Rest? I feel like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“Well, you sort of have. But you said yourself that you don’t feel well.”

Arthur thought about it. “I don’t. I suppose a night’s rest wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He paused for a while, thinking. “Merlin… how long have I…. been dead?”

“A long time, sire,” Merlin responded. The boat was just reaching the shore now, so Merlin took a few more steps into the water to pull it up onto the shore.

“Have you been dead, too?” Arthur asked as he watched Merlin.

“No.”

“Oh… so I couldn’t have been dead for too long.” Arthur smiled; for some reason that made him feel better. “You still look about the same as you did.”

Merlin chuckled. “But I have magic.” Arthur furrowed his brow at this comment.

“So?”

“So, I can change my age.” Merlin said as he picked up the oar, stopping it from rowing through the sand, and laid it down in the bottom of the boat.

“Pssssh, no you can’t,” Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin nodded. “Prove it.”

Merlin laughed again. “In the morning. Come on.” Merlin bent down and pulled one of Arthur’s arms over his shoulder. “You can lean on me, I’m stronger than I look. Easy does it.” They both slowly stood up and Arthur slowly climbed out of the boat. With his arm around Merlin, once again being supported by his friend, the memories of his last minutes came fully back and Arthur took a slow moment to wrap his other arm around Merlin’s thin shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Merlin was taken by surprise for a moment before he returned the embrace, smiling into Arthur’s chainmail covered shoulder. They stood there for a time, allowing their feelings to pass to the other wordlessly.

When Arthur pulled out of the embrace, he looked at Merlin with a sad, serious look on his face. Merlin looked back at him curiously before he asked, “How many times have you lied to me, Merlin?”  
Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat, but he looked Arthur in the eyes and answered truthfully, “I don’t know sire.”

A heavy silence fell between them as they each tried to read each other while sorting out their own thoughts.

Arthur was the first one to speak, with the same serious tone as before. “How many times did you save my life?”

Merlin’s somber face cracked into a smile, “I don’t know sire.”

After another short pause, Arthur asked, “A lot, though?”

“A lot,” Merlin nodded.

“For both?”

“For both.”

Arthur chewed on his lip for a moment before asking, “And you really did want to tell me?”

“Every single day,” Merlin responded, his face and tone serious.

Then Arthur nodded a big, determined nod. “Then I suppose I can forgive you,” he decided. “But you must promise to not keep any more secrets or lies.” Arthur stared pointedly at Merlin while Merlin nodded and promised, smiling. “And I think you should probably come clean about all of the other times.”

Merlin laughed at the comment, only to be met with another stern stare. “Yes, alright. I’ll try.”

“Good.” Arthur nodded. He clapped his arm on Merlin’s back and paused before he swung his other arm around him and embraced him once more. Merlin returned the hug, marveling that his best friend had finally returned to him. After a moment, Arthur pulled away gently. “Now, where are we going?”

“To my house, it’s just up here. Come on.” And so, they walked, Merlin supporting Arthur just as he always had, only this time Arthur was both aware and grateful for it.


	4. Chapter 4

When they walked into Merlin’s cottage, Arthur looked around, wide eyed at the clutter of things he’d never seen before. “Are all these things magic?” he asked, leaning heavily against the half wall that separated the mud room from the kitchen.

Merlin furrowed his brow as he shut and locked his door. “All of what?” he asked before turning around and finding Arthur staring in wonder at everything in the house. “Oh, no, like I said, you’ve been asleep for a long time. Things have changed a lot. We’ve made huge advances in technology in the last century.”

“All in one century?” Arthur breathed with wonder.

“Hmm?” Merlin hummed as he took off and hung up his coat. “No, no, that’s not what I mean. The biggest advances have been made in the last century, but you’ve been gone much longer.” When Arthur showed no sign of response, Merlin sighed and said, “Never mind. Come on, let’s get you clean and out of that chainmail.” Arthur continued to stand gazing around at the different objects, so Merlin decided to leave him be while for a bit. Merlin walked into the bathroom and reached for the shower tap. He paused, took another look down the hall at Arthur, who was bent over examining a clock, and decided to fill up the bath instead. When the tub was filled and a clean towel hung on the rod, Merlin called Arthur. When he didn’t get a response, he walked down the hall to find Arthur poking at a didgeridoo he’d gotten in Australia. He only followed when Merlin tugged on his arm. When the two walked into the bathroom, Arthur again took a moment while he stared around the room with his mouth hanging open.

“Come on, sire, I’ve drawn you a bath.” Merlin gestured to the full tub.

“What, how did you do that so quickly, Merlin? You mean to tell me you could always do work this quickly? You would have been a much better servant if you had just told me about your magic!”

“I would have been a much deader servant, too.” Merlin said dryly.

Arthur smiled at him and looked at him for the first time since entering the house and proper lighting. He furrowed his brow and looked his servant up and down. “Those are strange clothes you’re wearing, Merlin.” Arthur reached out to feel the fabric of Merlin’s sleeve. “Is this what they wear nowadays?”

Merlin smiled. “I mean, not out. They’re my pajamas – night clothes.”

Arthur nodded, thinking that they seemed much more suited for sleeping in. Then he paused. “You mean to tell me, Merlin, that your King was waking up from a century’s sleep, and you couldn’t be bothered to change out of your night clothes?”

Merlin grinned from ear to ear; he had missed his royal clotpole. In the back of his mind, however, he was worried about how to explain just how much time had passed. He had spent so many years researching the return of Arthur, he had forgotten to plan what he’d do once he actually returned.

“They’re really quite nice, though, for pajamas.” Arthur said quietly, looking Merlin up and down again before having another look around the bathroom. “You must be doing quite well for yourself.”

“We can get you a pair, sire,” Merlin smiled. He noticed that Arthur was swaying slightly, despite leaning quite solidly against the door frame. “Now come on, let’s get you clean so we can turn in for a few hours’ rest.” Merlin helped Arthur take off his armor and chainmail. As Merlin gathered up the chainmail to carry out of the bathroom, Arthur finished undressing. Merlin felt himself flush a bit when he turned around to see the King of Camelot naked before him, having forgotten how unabashed Arthur was about such things. “Uh… I- I’ll just leave you to it, then. Soap and shampoo are…” Merlin paused as Arthur gave him a confused look. Right, no shampoo. “Soap is just here,” and with a flash of Merlin’s eyes, a bar of soap came out from the cupboard under the sink. Arthur jumped a bit and glanced at Merlin.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” he stated. Merlin nodded.

“The blue towel is clean so you can use that when you’re done. Just call me then. I’ll go get something clean for you to wear.” Merlin left the room but couldn’t help but to take a last quick glance at Arthur. As he found a place to put Arthur’s armor, he could still feel his face burning. He didn’t remember being so embarrassed about seeing Arthur naked back in Camelot, but it had been a long time since Merlin had someone who was so comfortable around him, perhaps too long.

He sighed and tried to shake off the embarrassment as he carried Arthur’s clothes to the laundry room at an arm’s length (resting at the bottom of a lake for 1400 years hadn’t done them any favors). Then he found some of his larger pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt to give to Arthur and made up the sofa for him to sleep on. Shortly after he’d finished, Arthur called him. Merlin went into the bathroom to find Arthur standing with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp.

“Here you go, you can wear these.” Merlin handed him the pajamas. Arthur nodded and moved to put them on. Merlin walked over to the bath, to find the water gray with Arthur’s 1400-year-old sweat, blood, and dirt. “Feel better?” Merlin asked as he opened the drain.

“Much,” Arthur nodded, but the loud sound of the water whooshing down into the pipes made him jump. “What was that?” he asked as he turned around. He watched the water swirl around the tub as it disappeared down the drain. He looked back up at Merlin. “How?”

“Plumbing,” Merlin answered. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. But it’s time for bed, I’m exhausted.” Arthur nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the disappearing bath water as he walked out of the room. “Here, you can take my bed,” Merlin pointed through the open door into his bedroom.

“Where will you sleep?” Arthur asked. Merlin looked at him with a pleasantly surprised smile. Arthur shifted self-consciously as Merlin stared at him, impressed with his improved manners.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa in the lounge. I’ll be fine there,” he eventually responded. Arthur nodded, despite not knowing what a sofa nor a lounge was. He swayed as he moved towards the bedroom. Merlin moved towards the lounge, but Arthur paused when he reached the bedroom door.

“Merlin?” he started. Merlin looked at him, waiting for the question. Arthur shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What is it Arthur?”

“No, it’s silly.”

“What?” Merlin asked. “Tell me.”

Arthur sighed. “It’s just… I feel as though I’ve been alone for a very long time.” He paused, leaning against the doorway with his eyes cast to the floor. “I…. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Merlin smiled. “Okay.”

Arthur looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I’ve been a bit lonely, myself. The couch in there is smaller, but it’ll be okay for one night. I’ll just grab a blanket.” Arthur smiled as Merlin walked into the other room.

When Merlin returned, Arthur had already settled down into the bed, his eyelids heavy. He started a bit when Merlin walked into the room. Merlin couldn’t be bothered to make up the couch, so he shut off the light and settled down with his pillow and blanket. He had to curl up in order to fit on the short couch, but he didn’t mind. The sound of Arthur’s breathing was comforting to him after so many centuries of being alone. 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, his voice thick with sleep. “This is the comfiest bed I’ve ever been in. How do you have a bed that’s comfier than ones literally made for a king?”

Merlin chuckled. “I’m the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”

Arthur snorted humorously but took it as an answer and soon they were both fast asleep.

Merlin slept more soundly than he had for over a millennium. When he woke up, he stretched his sore and cramped muscles and sat up on the couch. Arthur was sprawled across the bed, tangled up in the blankets and snoring lightly. Merlin smiled at the sight and grabbed his laptop off his desk and settled in on the couch. He opened his computer and began working on a plan to catch Arthur up on the last 1400 years. It seemed that the main component was going to have to be brutal honesty.

Arthur, on the other hand, did not stir until nearly noon. He sat up in bed with mussed hair and drooping eyelids. Merlin looked up from behind his laptop and Arthur looked over at him with a sleepy gaze.

“Hungry?” Merlin asked, and Arthur nodded slowly. “I’ll cook something up.” A while later he returned with two plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. Arthur tucked in quite quickly.

“Mmm,” Arthur hummed while nodding and gesturing at his food with his fork. “Merlin, this is gooood. When did you learn to cook like this? I don’t think I have ever tasted anything as good as this.” Merlin smiled at the praise, flushing a bit. As he thought about it, he realized that there was potential to have a lot of fun introducing Arthur to this new world – especially to its food. Arthur chewed thoughtfully, again eyeing the room. He paused, looking at Merlin with narrowed eyes.  
“Have you become royalty?”

Merlin choked a little on a mouthful of eggs while he laughed. “No! Why would you think that?”

Arthur gestured around the room. “All of this,” he said with a new mouthful of toast. “Everything is much nicer than what I had in Camelot, let alone what you were getting by with.”

“Thanks for that.” Merlin looked around at his bedroom, picturing his life in Camelot. “With the advances in technology, the quality of life for the average person has increased a lot in the 1400 years you’ve been asleep.”

Arthur nodded, thinking through what Merlin had said, but then it was his turn to choke on his eggs. “Did you say 1400 years?! But last night you–”

“You misunderstood,” Merlin interrupted. Arthur, for once, listened and sat back against the pillows and looked around the room. 1400 years… the changes began to make more sense. His eyes stopped on Merlin, sitting there looking just as young as he did 1400 years ago. He somehow exuded the wisdom of an old man as well as the vigor of a young boy.

“You really haven’t been dead?” Arthur asked again.

Merlin laughed again and shook his head.

“Then how?” Arthur asked. “You cannot possibly be telling me that you have been living here for the past 1400 years.”

Merlin’s smile faded. “I am.”

Arthur stared at him, not believing what he was saying. Merlin met his gaze, and they sat like that for several minutes, food lying forgotten on their plates. Eventually, Arthur submitted, thinking that, as impossible as it seemed, it explained a lot, from the strange items cluttering Merlin’s cottage to the strange aura that surrounded him.

“How?” He finally asked, almost breathlessly.

Merlin bit his lip as he pondered his response. “I don’t know,” he eventually responded. “But here I am.” Arthur just stared at him with a confused expression. Merlin paused. “The druids had a name for me. They called me Emrys. In their language, it means immortal. I didn’t know it until several decades after all of our friends had passed. I didn’t understand why I was still alive when others weren’t, or why my body, while it aged, didn’t show the terrible effects of growing old. Eventually, I sought out the druids, looking for answers. I never knew what Emrys meant, or why they called me that, but there were legends about me that were older than Camelot.”

“Legends?” Arthur sneered. “About you?”

Merlin pulled a disgusted face at him. “Yes, legends about me. I happen to be a very powerful warlock, I’ll have you know. And I just so happen to be immortal. You don’t think that qualifies for legends?”

Arthur chuckled. “Okay, okay, so the druids had legends about you. Did they come true?” 

“Yes and no.”

There was a short pause between them. Arthur poked at the little bit of food that was left on his plate. “Why did you learn magic?”

“I didn’t, intentionally. At least, not at first. I was born with the ability to use it. I only needed to learn how to improve it. The basics came naturally to me. That’s the difference between a sorcerer and a warlock.” Arthur nodded, his eyes still cast downward at his plate.

“You think it’s good? Magic, that is, it’s good?”

Merlin paused. “Magic itself is not good or evil, it’s power. The morality of it is decided by how you use it, not whether or not you use it. That’s like asking if technology is good or evil.”

Arthur nodded again. “But my father…”

“Made a mistake and was consumed by hatred as a result.” Merlin interjected. “You are not your father. You know that.”

Arthur nodded, livening up this time. They both finished their breakfast, and Merlin took the plates to wash. Arthur laid back on the bed, looking around the room and examining every item curiously.


	5. Chapter 5

When Merlin came back into the room, Arthur had many questions to ask him.

“What did you do after… After?”

Merlin tilted his head to one side, unsure of Arthur’s meaning.

“After I died.” Arthur finished, the words feeling strange in his mouth.

“Oh.” Merlin thought back to the most painful day of his life. “Well, after I gave you, you know… a burial, I went back to Camelot. I was the bearer of bad news, but when they saw me approach alone, they knew. I told Gwen, Leon, and Gaius what had happened. Percival had returned by then, and he brought news of Gwaine’s death.” Arthur’s head snapped up at this. “The two of them had gone to hunt Morgana down after they discovered that Gwaine’s girlfriend was spying for her. It was foolish… Morgana tortured Gwaine to death, and that’s how she knew where to find us.”

Arthur looked at Merlin quizzically. “I remember.” Arthur paused, recalling his last encounter with his half-sister. “You killed her. You killed Morgana.”

Merlin nodded somberly. “I had to protect you.”

Arthur smiled despite himself and their serious topic. “I gravely misjudged you, didn’t I, Merlin? All this time I thought you were an idiot.”

Merlin laughed. “I suppose so.”

Arthur’s smile faded slowly from his face. “Why didn’t you come to the battle with me?”

Merlin’s face twisted with guilt. “I couldn’t. You don’t know how upset I was, but I couldn’t.” Merlin paused as he collected his thoughts and Arthur furrowed his brows as he waited. “Morgana had heard that a sorcerer named Emrys,” Merlin waved his hand to gesture that it was him, “would be responsible for her failure and she spent years trying to find out who and where Emrys was. Thankfully, those that knew my identity believed in my – in our – destiny and refused to tell her. That is, until Mordred returned to her side. Because he was raised by the druids, he knew who I was, and he told Morgana. She had this creature… It takes the ability to use magic away. She sent someone to deliver it to my room, it attacked me, and…. I lost my magic. I couldn’t help you without it.” Arthur nodded, the truth helping to heal the painful disappointment he had felt when Merlin didn’t accompany him. “So, I went the Crystal Caves to get my magic back and joined you on the battlefield.”

“How did you get it back?”

Merlin smiled bashfully. “I talked to my father and he helped me to find it inside of me.” Arthur looked at him dubiously. “I’m not any old sorcerer. I don’t just have magic, I am magic.”

“You’re really that powerful?” Arthur examined him. “I guess I’m lucky that you were on my side.”

Merlin laughed loudly. “Very. Luckily, despite having the exterior of an arrogant ass, you’re a good man and a good king.” He laughed again as he got pelted by a flying pillow.

Arthur held onto the second pillow he had grabbed as ammo. He fiddled with the seams thoughtfully. “I thought you had never met your father?”

Merlin sighed. “I think that’s a story for another time. There’s too much to tell all at once.”

Arthur nodded. “Okay, so you went to the Crystal Caves… why there?”

“It was the birthplace of magic and the old religion.”

Arthur winced at the mention of the old religion – he’d only ever heard it mentioned with hatred as his father fought it or those oppressed people sought their revenge, or with an academic apathy from Gaius as he explained the cause of the latest attack on Camelot. “And you’re a follower of the old religion?”

“Not exactly. When we knew each other, I didn’t know the teachings of the old religion. I was born with magic, so I didn’t need to learn the religion to use it. I learned the language, so I could learn new spells, and I learned about the legends and creatures so I could be more prepared to protect you. But I didn’t follow the religion.”

“And now?”

Merlin met Arthur’s gaze. “Now, I prefer the old religion to the other ones.”

“Ones?”

“There are far more religions in the world than we knew back then. The world itself is far larger than we knew.” Arthur squinted at him and nodded slowly. “It will take us some time to get you up to speed, we just need to be patient.”

Arthur nodded again. “Of course.” He leaned back with an air of importance and crossed his legs on the bed.

Merlin examined him, recognizing this feigned confidence. “You’re completely lost and overwhelmed, aren’t you?” He smirked.

“No, no, of course not-” Arthur started before making eye contact with Merlin. “I am. Of course.”

Merlin smiled at him reassuringly, “It’ll take some time. You’ll get the hang of it, I promise.” Arthur gave Merlin a soft smile of thanks. “Did you have any other questions for now?”

Arthur looked up at the ceiling as he considered it. “You said… people – your people, people with magic – believed in our destiny…” Arthur trailed off as he found himself lost for words.

Merlin chewed on his lip, debating whether it was the right time for this. “That might be another conversation for later,” he decided. “For now, know that we believe in you as a king and in the future that you will create.”

“And your destiny?”

“My destiny is to help you fulfill yours.”

Arthur nodded slowly again. He absentmindedly shifted the pillow around in his hands. “So, all those funny feelings you had…”

“Usually my magic. Although sometimes I just couldn’t tell you why I knew what I was telling you.”

“But we always survived.”

“Well…” Merlin paused as Arthur grimaced, running his hand along his side where he had been mortally wounded. “To be honest, I didn’t always make the right decisions back then. I was naïve, and I didn’t learn from my mistakes. If I had, perhaps you would have…” Merlin stared at the floor as he lost the ability to continue his sentence.

“You did all you could, I’m sure of it.” Arthur leaned closer to him. “And I’m grateful as well.”

Merlin shook his head and smiled at his king. They sat for a moment, smiling at each other. Eventually Arthur cleared his throat and leaned back against the headboard of Merlin’s bed.

“Who would have thought that my hopeless servant was actually an immortal sorcerer?” Arthur asked. Merlin shrugged at him.

“And everyone always said I was a bad liar. I had you fooled, didn’t I?”

“But you are a bad liar. It’s a wonder that you kept that secret for so many years.”

“I am sorry, Arthur.”

“I know. You’re forgiven.” He paused. “To be honest, I’m almost impressed,” he admitted, knowing that he’d regret it immediately. To his surprise, Merlin just grinned at him.

“I missed you, Arthur,” Merlin admitted in turn. Arthur gave Merlin a wide smile in return, and the sight left Merlin a little breathless. For so long he’d wondered if he would ever see that smile again.

“Who knew?” Arthur asked. When Merlin tilted his head in confusion, he continued, “About your magic? Who else?”

“Oh, Gaius.” Arthur nodded, of course Merlin’s father-figure would have known. “And Lancelot.” Arthur nodded again, with a furrowed brow.

After a short time of silence, Merlin stated, “You know, all of this should explain some things… other than just my funny feelings.”

“I’m sure it will.” Arthur stretched out on the bed and folded his arms behind his head. “What did you have in mind?”

“All the… strangeness,” Merlin responded. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him and Merlin searched his memory for a more specific example. “Like when you thought I was spying on the Lady Katrina. Well, I mean, I was, but not in the way you thought. Gaius and I suspected that she was a troll, and I had to find out for sure.”

Arthur examined him incredulously. “That’s really all it was?” Merlin nodded. “Why didn’t you just tell me, Merlin?”

“I did! And you thought I was joking.” Arthur chewed on his lip as he begrudgingly agreed. “And that was after I was sure, so there was no way you would have listened if I hadn’t been sure of my accusation myself. You nor Uther would have listened to a servant who suspected royalty of being a troll without proof.”

“I might’ve.” Arthur said indignantly. Merlin raised his eyebrows at him. “Okay, you’re right. I would’ve needed proof.”

Merlin nodded. “And because of that, we often got into worse situations than we would have if you had just listened to me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Like when?”

“Agravaine.” Arthur clenched his jaw.

“Alright, Merlin. So, what you’re saying is that I need to believe and do what you say?”

“It’d be a start.”

“Well, I’ll try to… not completely write you off. Hmmm? How’s that?”

“I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

Arthur nodded and leaned back on his folded arms.

“Are you set for now?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, I think so. Any more information and I don’t know where I’d put it.”

“Okay, fair enough. How are you feeling?”

Arthur was quiet as he slowly stretched his muscles, testing them. There remained a dull ache, but the proper sleep – and comfy mattress – had done wonders for his sore body.

“Better,” he answered. He slowly moved to sit at the edge of the bed, the movement causing him to feel slightly dizzy. He slowly pushed himself up into a standing position only to fall forward, catching himself on the wall. He groaned. “Not completely better, it seems.” Merlin walked over to help him back down to the bed, where he sat with his head swimming.

“That’s no surprise, really. I can’t imagine resurrection being a particularly easy thing to undergo.” Arthur swayed as he looked at Merlin with drooping eyelids. “Are you okay, Arthur?”

“I will be,” he responded. “As soon as the room stops spinning.” Merlin smiled sympathetically and sat down next to Arthur on the bed, helping to support him. When his dizziness faded, Arthur moved back to rest against the headboard.

“Best take it easy for now. We’ll rest for the afternoon and you’ll be right as rain.” Merlin clapped his shin before moving back to the sofa. Arthur nodded sleepily before dozing off into a nap. Merlin opened his laptop and continued his work.

When Arthur woke up, Merlin was not on the sofa. He jolted awake and looked around the room frantically. As he was starting to stand up, the door pushed open and Merlin walked through.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“You were gone,” Arthur stated dumbly.

“Sorry, just getting dinner on.”

“Dinner?” Arthur perked up at the thought.

“It’ll be a little while,” Merlin chuckled. Arthur sunk back into his pillows and before long he was snoring gently. Merlin smiled at him.

“Okay, time to wake up!” Merlin announced loudly as he brought plates full of roast pork and vegetables into the bedroom. “Dinner’s ready.” Arthur slowly opened his eyes but sat up quickly when he caught sight – and smell – of the food. Merlin gave him a plate before settling down on the sofa. Arthur again tucked in appreciatively and marveled over the improvement in Merlin’s cooking.

Merlin sat slowly poking at his food.

“You okay?” Arthur said through a mouthful of pork when he noticed Merlin’s downcast eyes.

“Oh, yeah.” Merlin shrugged. “I just… I’ve got a question for you."

“Mmmm?”

“Do you remember?” Merlin started. “Do you remember what it was like to die and… and to be dead?” Arthur stopped chewing to consider the question carefully. “It’s just, we can’t ever get the answer for as long as we live. Most people find out eventually, but I… I never have been able to. And it’s probably the most highly contended question we have… the root of religion, and everyone I’ve ever known has experienced it….”

“To die…” Arthur started with a grimace. “Was terribly painful. But then… I don’t remember anything. No bright light. My life didn’t flash before me. It was just… nothing. And then I was in that boat, with a headache and sore muscles.” Merlin nodded, wondering whether Arthur just couldn’t recall or if that was all there was to it. “Although… I remember… maybe a dream.” Arthur stopped and squinted down at the floor, trying to bring back a faraway memory. He looked up at Merlin. “You were there and someone – a woman – was trying to wake me up.” Merlin looked up at Arthur in surprise.

“I had that one too,” he said. “Last night, half an hour before you came back. It was Freya. She’s been watching over you. And your sword.”

Arthur squinted at him. “Who’s Freya?”

“The Lady in the Lake,” Merlin responded. He took a deep breath, not wanting to go into the details of his relationship with the shapeshifter and how Arthur killed the only woman Merlin had ever loved. Arthur’s mind had drifted back to their shared dream, though, so Merlin was saved from delving into sad memories.

“You had the dream too… That is strange.”

Merlin nodded.

“But how could I dream while I was dea-” Arthur stopped before finishing his sentence. “That reminds me… the dream.” He looked at Merlin intently. “You spoke to me. In the dream. At Camlann. You told me – “

“That Morgana meant to outflank you.” Merlin finished. “Yes, that was me.”

“How? That’s something you can do? Influence dreams? Communicate through thoughts?”

“No, well, mostly. Not normally. I was in the Crystal Cave then, and those crystals have been used to create tools for seers, and for good reason. I was able to see the future in them – snippets, not anything really helpful. Mostly major cataclysms that I was meant to stop. But through these crystals I was able to see you and speak to you.”

“So, you can’t…”

“No, that’s not something that my magic on its own allows me to do.” He thought back to Arthur’s question and added, “Oh, but people of magic can communicate nonverbally. With each other; we can’t with those that don’t have magic. Mordred,” Arthur winced at the name. “When we found him as a boy – he could communicate with Morgana and me, and the other druids – that’s why he didn’t speak.”

“He had magic?” Arthur whispered.

“He was raised by the druids, what did you expect?”

Arthur went into a huffy silence but couldn’t argue with Merlin’s comment. After a few more mouthfuls of dinner, however, the topic of Mordred had left his mind.

“Merlin? You’ve really been living for… 1400 years?” He asked. When Merlin responded with a nod, he asked, “How? You said you can change your age?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Merlin nodded, taking a bite of parsnip.

“You said you’d prove it.” At this, Merlin stopped chewing and looked at Arthur.

“You want me to?”

Arthur nodded.

“You don’t believe me?”

Arthur paused. “It’s not that… I just… I’d like to see it.”

Merlin nodded. “Can it wait until after dinner?”

Arthur nodded and they went back to their food. When they were finished, Merlin took away the plates to wash them. He returned looking nervous.

“Now,” he started, not sure how to deal with this series of lies. “There’s a…. There’s a very big secret… uh, lie? … here that I uh… I haven’t told you about it.” Arthur furrowed his brow in response to Merlin’s nervousness. “I just… please, please believe me when I say the circumstances weren’t what you thought.” Arthur nodded dubiously. “Really, Arthur. You’re going to be upset. I need your word that you’ll listen to me.”

Arthur paused, unsettled by Merlin’s worry. Eventually he said, “I promise.”

“Okay,” Merlin nodded and began the aging spell. This spell was more intense than the ones Arthur had so far seen Merlin perform, and the intensity left him surprised and unsettled. Before his eyes, the young dark-haired man that he knew so well became an old man with long white hair and beard – the man who had killed his father. At first, Arthur just stared at him completely confused. As the pieces began to fall into place in his mind, Merlin saw the same betrayed expression as when he found out Merlin had magic fall over Arthur’s features.

“You?” Arthur whispered, his voice tight with emotion.


	6. Chapter 6

“Arthur, please,” Merlin started, but Arthur pushed himself as far away from him as he could. “Arthur, please, you promised you’d listen. It’s me, Merlin, you know me, you know I would never hurt you on purpose. Please, Arthur.”

Arthur listened to him, closed his eyes and took several steadying breaths. When he opened them again, he nodded, telling Merlin to continue.

“Arthur, I promise I did all that I could to save your father. Really Arthur, I cast the most powerful healing spell I knew. And it was working, I saw that your father improved – you saw it too.” Arthur gave the slightest nod. “But I don’t know exactly what happened. There was a necklace, Gaius found it around your father’s neck afterwards, it was enchanted to reverse any healing magic cast on the wearer. We think Morgana… somehow Morgana knew your plan and used the necklace to thwart it. I promise, Arthur, I did the best that I could. I did all I could to save your father.”

A heavy silence hung in the air between them. “Why should I believe you?”

Merlin’s jaw fell open. He opened and closed it several times as he tried to answer the question, but no response came to him.

“You had every reason to want to kill him – he hunted your people like animals. So why didn’t you?”

Merlin looked at Arthur seriously. “Because I couldn’t do that to you. He was my enemy, but he was your father and that was more important. I could not be the cause of you enduring so much pain.” Arthur chewed his lip as he met Merlin’s eyes. “I had selfish reasons as well.” Merlin continued. “If Uther died by magic, I knew your heart would grow cold and hard towards it, just like his did, and I couldn’t risk that. I needed you to become more open to magic so that I – and my people – could be free to be ourselves again. That’s why I saved his life so many times, and I did save his life, didn’t I? Countless times. Why would I do that just to then kill him myself?”

Arthur was quiet for several long minutes as he pondered this, but he eventually decided that Merlin’s explanation sounded like the truth. “You promise you did everything you could?”

“I promise.”

“Morgana…” Arthur started.

“I’m not sure how-”

“Agravaine.” Arthur breathed. “I told him that I was going to use magic to save my father. I didn’t want to go behind his back… He must have told Morgana and put the necklace on him.” Merlin nodded, as he had considered this to be the most likely possibility. “How could I have been so stupid?” Arthur ran his hands over his face and sat on the bed with slumped shoulders for several more minutes. Eventually, he raised his head out of his hands and asked, “All those years I fought against people with magic, you were always by my side helping me – using your magic to save me, my father, and the people of Camelot, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Merlin breathed.

Arthur nodded. Merlin watched him expectantly, and Arthur shrugged and said, “It adds up. You did save my father. You risked your life for him several times, and … well, I did grow to hate magic because of his death, didn’t I? And it would be in your best interest for that not to have happened, but… Agravaine, we know he was a traitor and worked with Morgana, and we know she wanted the throne and would have done anything to get it. So… Yes, I believe you. You didn’t know about the enchanted necklace until afterwards?” Merlin shook his head sadly. “Then there really was nothing that you could have done.”

“But, we’re…”

“We’re okay. You’re forgiven.” Arthur sighed. “I said I wanted the truth, didn’t I?” Merlin nodded. “You don’t make this easy, though, do you Merlin?” Merlin cracked a half smile, and the sight sparked something in Arthur’s memory. “So, all of that was you. You called me a… You made me give you a ride on my back!” Arthur yelled at the old man, sitting up straight on the bed. “AND you spurred me like a horse!” Merlin couldn’t stop the big grin that cracked across his face, nor could he hold back the laugh that came with it.

“Who said I couldn’t have fun with being a warlock?”

“If I were feeling better, I’d… Oh just you wait, you’ll get it.” Arthur threatened, unwavered by Merlin’s laughter. “I knew I recognized those eyes,” he said, regarding Merlin closely.

“Ah, but you didn’t place them, did you?”

“No, but…” Arthur paused as all the pieces of Merlin’s alter ego came into place. “But you came with me to get the old sorcerer to save my father… Ohhhh, that’s what you were doing – you weren’t peeing for 10 minutes, you’re really just a terrible liar.”

Merlin let out an awkward chuckle as he shuffled his feet bashfully. “Do you think you could’ve done better?”

Arthur gave him a half smile. “So, this really does explain a lot of your strangeness.”

“And trips to the taverns,” Merlin added, and Arthur waited for an elaboration. “When your father found out about your feelings for Gwen, and she was accused of enchanting you.” Arthur thought back on the day. “It was Morgana who planted the poultice in your room that created that suspicion.”

Arthur gasped and breathed, “Of course, she didn’t want Gwen to take the throne.”

Merlin nodded. “But Uther never would have believed that, so I disguised myself and purposefully got caught planting an identical poultice so Gwen would be pardoned.” Arthur looked at him with disbelief. “And you of course threw me in the cells, but I had trouble undoing the spell so I couldn’t escape. While I was trapped in the cells all day, you noticed I was missing, and Gaius told you I was in the tavern.”

Arthur nodded slowly, remembering. “And you didn’t let the doddering old man run pass you – you turned back into your young self.” Merlin nodded. “So, you weren’t in the tavern?” Merlin shook his head.

“The only times I ever went to the tavern, I was with you,” he said.

Arthur looked at him dubiously. “But…”

“It seemed to be Gaius’ favorite excuse – or the only one you’d believe.”

“All those times…”

“I was doing something that you couldn’t know about.” Arthur let it sink in, but it was a more easily accepted truth than other more shocking news about his friend.

“It feels a bit like I didn’t know you at all, Merlin.” Arthur said sadly.

“But you did – you do – sire. Other than my magic and my destiny – the only person who knew me better was Gaius.” Arthur nodded and gave him a small smile.

“Alright,” Arthur started, shaking off the sappy tone their conversation had taken. “Come out with it – who else did you pretend to be?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, you made yourself an 80-year-old man several times in order to get away with stuff. Who else did you dress up as?” Merlin huffed defensively. “Let’s see… was there anyone else that I never saw in your presence?” Arthur leaned back as he tried to remember.

“Dolma.” Merlin answered. Arthur stopped to look at him curiously. “The sorceress that returned Gwen to normal after Morgana had tortured her.” Arthur solemnly recalled the time Merlin was recalling.

“What about her?” Arthur asked, having already forgotten his own question.

“She was me.” Merlin replied huskily.

Arthur’s face cracked into a big smile. “What?!”

“Gaius knew you wouldn’t trust this old sorcerer,” Merlin explained, gesturing to himself. “But we had to try to get Gwen back so I… used an aging spell and a… a shaving spell, and I’d brought a dress, so…”

Arthur laughed loudly. “You’re joking! No, you must be joking, because you were there with us…” Arthur trailed off as he remembered the events of their trip to the Cauldron of Arianrhod. “Wait, you disappeared and then she came out, cast the spell, and… and got all upset because we almost left without you! That really was you!” When Merlin nodded again, Arthur looked at him incredulously. “Is there nothing you wouldn’t do for me?”

Merlin shook his head, and Arthur examined him appreciatively. The moment, however, was quickly lost, as Arthur began laughing at Merlin’s best impression of an 80-year-old hermit sorceress.

“So that’s why she was so… weird.” Arthur said in between laughter. “She was you!” After having a good laugh, Arthur calmed down and became very serious. “Okay, now Merlin, I remember seeing you carrying around women’s dresses on at least one other occasion. Is there anything else you need to come clean about?” Arthur had barely finished his sentence before he burst into hysteria. Merlin huffily told him that it had only been the one time but couldn’t help but to chuckle along with Arthur’s roaring laughter.

Once Arthur calmed down, Merlin decided to return to the version of himself with which Arthur was most familiar. After he’d cast his anti-aging spell, Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “You know, Merlin, you really are quite something.”

Merlin grinned at him, his face looking more boyish than ever. “Good something?”

“A mystery?” Arthur put forward.

Merlin shrugged, supposing he could live with that. “But you’re learning more about that mystery now.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Arthur smiled.

Merlin announced that he was quite worn out from doing such an intense spell not once, but twice, and Arthur concurred that it was time to turn in. Merlin settled back down onto the small sofa in the bedroom, and Arthur smiled, relieved to not have to request his presence again.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Arthur woke up to the smell of breakfast being cooked. He slowly stretched his muscles and was pleasantly surprised to find just a touch of stiffness. Feeling much better, he carefully stood up and, after steadying himself with a hand on the wall, he walked out of the room and followed the smell of food into the kitchen. There he found Merlin holding two plates of eggs and sausages. Hearing Arthur’s footsteps, Merlin turned around to face him.

“Oh, I was just going to wake you up. Breakfast’s ready,” he smiled, placing the dishes on the small dining table. “Feeling better?”

“Much.” Arthur responded, digging into his food.

They chatted quietly as they ate, and when Merlin had finished washing the dishes he said, “Now, if I’m going to be feeding the two of us, I’m going to need to make a trip to the… uh, market. Would you like to stay here and rest, or do you want to see a glimpse of your new world?”

Arthur considered the choice and decided to accompany Merlin.

“Okay, there are a few things that we need to cover first. It will not be how you’re expecting it to be.”

“How do you know what I’m expecting?”

“I don’t. But I know you’ve got it wrong. First off, you know how we use horse drawn wagons?” Arthur nodded while looking at Merlin as though he were an idiot. “We don’t use them anymore. We now have… metal wagons that don’t need horses to pull them. They’re called cars.”

After a short pause, Arthur asked, “Are they magic, these… cars?”

“No, just an advanced technology. They travel extremely quickly, though, and can be dangerous. I’ll explain more later, but I need you to be prepared to see them and other things that you wouldn’t believe if I told you. Try not to gawk too much, too.” 

Merlin paused and looked Arthur in the eyes. “It’s going to be a shock. Are you sure you want to come?”

Arthur nodded.

“Okay, well, you’ll need to get dressed. Have a look around to see if you can find something that fits while I shower.”

Merlin pointed him towards the dresser, grabbed some clothes for himself, and left. Arthur stood rummaging through Merlin’s dresser drawers. When Merlin came back when he was finished in the shower, he found Arthur sitting on the bed shirtless. He looked over at the wardrobe as he walked in, to find the drawers all opened with the clothes in messy bundles pouring out. As Merlin looked between the disheveled drawers and his king, Arthur looked up at him sheepishly.

“You have a very strange assortment of clothes.” He said defensively.

Merlin sighed and walked over to the dresser, where Arthur met him. “I should’ve known you couldn’t dress yourself. You never could even in your own time.” Arthur smacked the back of Merlin’s head. “Ow! Do you want help or not?”

Arthur mumbled something that might have been an apology, and Merlin helped him dress. Afterwards, Arthur examined the long red sleeved shirt and brown trousers that Merlin had picked out, which were a bit too tight for Arthur’s broader stature. He then eyed Merlin’s blue t-shirt and jeans.

“Clothes seem to have changed,” he commented dumbly. Merlin wrapped a red scarf around his neck and slipped on a brown suede coat. He found his biggest jacket and gave it to Arthur. It was also too tight, and Arthur moved stiffly in it. They walked to the front door.

“Ready?” Merlin checked, picking up his cloth bags. Arthur swallowed, nodded, and reached to set his hand on the hilt of his sword, but it wasn’t at his waist as it usually was.

“My sword?”

Merlin shook his head. “You won’t be able to bring it. People aren’t allowed to bring weapons into public places anymore.”

“But I’m a knight of Camelot!” Arthur protested.

Merlin winced apologetically. “Knights don’t carry weapons anymore, Arthur. Look, we won’t need it, I promise.” Arthur looked at him dubiously, but eventually gave in. Merlin opened the front door and then stepped out into the early afternoon sun. Arthur paused a moment to take in his surroundings and decided that there was nothing outside of the cottage that was stranger than what he had seen inside.

“Will we be taking one of those…” he paused, forgetting the word Merlin had used. “The magical horse-less wagons?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, it’s close enough that we can walk. And I told you, they’re not magical.”

Arthur nodded absentmindedly as they took off along Merlin’s driveway. When they arrived at the main road, Arthur stopped to gawk at the paved road. Merlin patiently waited and answered Arthur’s questions best he could, while wondering just how well Arthur was going to handle the trip to the grocery store. Luckily, the road was quiet, and they had crossed it before a car drove by. Arthur paused to listen as the sound of an engine approached. As it grew louder, he began to search to the skies and the sides of the roads for the source of the sound. When the car came into view, Arthur saw it immediately and roughly grabbed Merlin and pulled him away from the road.

“Arthur, it’s okay! It’s just a car – the magic horseless wagons! We’re fine!” Merlin yelled as Arthur pulled them both down into the grass on the side of the road. Arthur watched the car pass from his position on the ground. After it was long gone, Arthur stood back up and allowed Merlin to do the same. “See?” Merlin asked while brushing the dirt off his clothes. “It was just people going by, nothing to worry about.”

“What if they were bandits, Merlin? Hmm?” Arthur tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows self-assuredly. “If they saw the King of Camelot weaponless and accompanied only by a servant…”

Merlin sighed. “It’s been 1400 years, Arthur. Hate to burst your bubble, but nobody is going to recognize you as the King, and Camelot is long gone.” Arthur let that really sink in for the first time, and he nodded sadly. “Besides,” Merlin continued, “The world is a very different place nowadays. Bandits no longer ambush people in large groups. Thieves have different ways of stealing now, but we aren’t likely to be targets in a town this size.” Merlin put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder reassuringly. “Okay?” Arthur nodded and they continued their trip towards the market. 

Merlin led Arthur through the plaza where he’d began seeing reincarnations of their friends, and he looked around to see if they would make another appearance, but they did not. When they arrived at the grocery store, Arthur jumped back from the sliding glass doors that opened automatically. As they walked through them, Arthur stared in awe at the tiled floors, fluorescent lights, and everything in between.

Merlin gave him a few seconds to take in the new surroundings before he tugged him out of the path of the automatic doors, which had been opening and closing constantly as they remained in front of the sensor. Once out of the way, Merlin allowed Arthur another minute or so of staring before he walked over to get a trolley. Arthur followed a footstep behind, but his eyes were darting around the foreign store. Merlin pushed his trolley over to the produce section and pretended to be picking out some oranges while he was actually examining his king. Arthur’s face was paler than normal, his eyes were wide, and his mouth was hanging ajar.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked gently. “Do you want to go back home?”

Arthur looked at him for the first time since entering the store, and he was surprised to see a young man who blended in perfectly into this scene. He knew that there was no way he himself looked that way, but as soon as he looked around again, his jaw fell open and he couldn’t fathom or believe what he was seeing.

“Are you sure this isn’t just a very strange dream?” He finally asked.

Merlin smiled at him and said, “I’m sure.”

Arthur accepted the reassurance but continued to gawk around him. He reached out for Merlin’s arm as tangible evidence that he was in fact there with him. Merlin accepted the touch, and that’s how they made their way through the store. Merlin simply went about his normal shopping routine, but for two, and Arthur trailed behind him holding onto his jacket sleeve, looking not unlike a small child.

By the time they had reached the checkouts, Arthur had calmed down a bit and only looked slightly like a fish out of water. He still, however, had his fist clenched around Merlin’s jacket sleeve. Merlin went through his usual checkout line, and the young redhaired woman eyed him as she rung up their items. Merlin missed her gaze as he was watching Arthur, who was very intently watching as the strange little boxes and bags went through a hatched red light, beeped, and were placed into the cloth bags Merlin had brought. The cashier attempted to strike up a friendly conversation, but in his distraction, Merlin’s manners had left him, and he responded with the bare minimal answer acceptable. Eventually, the cashier noticed that Merlin was engrossed with the man next to him, and her eyes landed on Arthur’s hand which was still on Merlin’s arm, and she looked curiously at the two of them. When she was done scanning the items, she adopted her friendliest smile and tone and aimed them towards the raven-haired young man standing in front of her. Merlin smiled back politely and paid with a card. Arthur’s eyes went wider again as he watched. Merlin thanked the cashier and moved to collect his bags, which Arthur helped to carry.

Merlin brought them to a bench that was a fair distance from most of the crowd in the shopping plaza. He and Arthur sat down, and Arthur let out a large breath, as if he’d been holding it in the whole time.

“What do you think?” Merlin asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me everyone here in this time has magic?” Arthur responded.

Merlin blanched at him for a bit before he worked out why he’d come to his conclusion. “I told you, it’s not magic. It’s technology. Would you like to learn how it works?” Arthur gave a hesitant nod. “Alright, let’s go home.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing the history of electricity, how people were able to harness it, and how that changed the way people lived. Arthur grasped the basics fairly well, but Merlin knew it would take time for him to really get it. When the light was starting to fade, Merlin created an example out of the light switch.

“You see, when I turn this switch on, it brings electricity into the wires that lead into the light, which causes it to turn on, and when I turn the switch off, it cuts the electricity off which turns the light off.”

He illustrated it by flicking the light on and back off. Arthur stood up from where he was sitting at the table and walked over to the light switch. He reached his hand out and looked hesitantly at Merlin, who nodded in return. Arthur flicked the switch on and watch light come into the bulb in the ceiling. He watched intently as he flicked it off and the light went out. He then started turning the switch on and off again and again at various intervals, testing its reactions. After a little while, Merlin stopped his hand.

“See? It works. And you could do it – so it’s technology, not magic.” Arthur nodded. “But it does cost money. Plus, the less electricity we use, the better for the environment.” Arthur looked at him curiously. “You see, electricity and a lot of the other technologies now, they make life easier and they make a better life less expensive. But they’re doing harm to the earth. We’re using our resources too quickly and creating too much waste.”

Arthur nodded while examining the light and the ceiling around it.

“Where are the wires?” He asked.

Merlin looked up as well. “The wires are tucked out of sight behind the wall. It’s neater this way, and safer as the wires can be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“Yeah, you know how lightning can be dangerous?”

Arthur nodded.

“Electricity is the same, but on a smaller scale.”

Arthur nodded again.

“Well, do you think that’s enough for tonight?”

Arthur nodded thricely.

“How about some dinner?”

Merlin received another nod in response and set about putting together a basic meal of sausages and vegetables; something that Arthur would be familiar with. Arthur sat at the kitchen table and watched Merlin cook on the stove top. When Merlin brought the dinner plates over, Arthur looked at the food dubiously.

“What?”

“This was cooked using the captured lightning?”

“Yes, but so was everything you’ve eaten in the last two days, and you’re perfectly fine, aren’t you?” Merlin reassured him.

Arthur nodded, but still waited until Merlin had begun eating before touching his own food. He was beginning to get used to the higher quality of food and he didn’t say much about it, save for a couple of happy humming sounds.


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next few days, Merlin gave Arthur a crash course in British history and life in today’s world. They were taking it very slow, but Merlin was rather pleased with how well Arthur was catching on. Arthur was now capable of running a bath for himself (okay so Merlin usually did it for him, but he knew that Arthur was capable, just lazy), using the sink, the lights, and the fridge. The fridge, in fact, seemed to be Arthur’s favorite thing so far, and it was the appliance he learned to use the quickest.

As Merlin sat on the couch reading a concise world history book, he heard Arthur walk into the kitchen and open the fridge door. Merlin absentmindedly listened as he rummaged through his options.

“Merlin,” he called. “What is this squishy white package? I think maybe it’s gone off.”

Merlin furrowed his brow as he considered the question. “Cheese!” He suddenly realized, jumping off the couch. “Don’t throw it away!”  
Arthur watched bemused as Merlin came crashing through into the kitchen with a look of desperation on his face. When he met Arthur’s gaze, he paused to compose himself, ears turning red.

“It’s a wheel of brie… It’s good.”

“Brie?” Arthur looked at the wrapping with a look of disgust.

“Yeah, here we can have some.” Merlin pulled out a cheeseboard and knife. While he opened the fridge, Arthur picked up the knife to slice himself off a piece. Merlin slapped the knife out of his hand.  
Arthur squared him with a look of reproach.

“Not yet,” Merlin explained hurriedly. “It’s best after it warms up a bit.”

Arthur curled his lip at Merlin but stepped back.

“Here, slice this up,” Merlin handed Arthur an apple.

Arthur furrowed his brow at the apple and picked up the cheese knife.

“Not with that,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Here,” he handed him a kitchen knife.

As Arthur chopped the apple into slices, Merlin floated around the kitchen, gathering fruits, sauces, crackers, and meats. He made a small pile of fruits for Arthur to slice. Some were familiar and some… were not. Arthur picked up one that looked almost like a bulb of garlic, but it was squishy and the skin a deep purple.

“What is this?” Arthur looked at the fruit like it might try to eat him.

“Fig,” Merlin answered quickly while pulling out jars from a cupboard.

“Fig,” Arthur repeated, finding the word as repulsive as the fruit itself.

When Arthur was done slicing the fruits Merlin had placed in front of him, he was surprised to look up at the result of Merlin’s hustling. Before them, there were multiple cheeses placed on the board with beautifully arranged fruits and meats. Around the plate there were bowls of bread slices and small slimy things that Merlin had fished out of jars.

“We can eat it in the living room,” Merlin grinned, barely containing his excitement.

They move the board, bowls, and plates into the other room and put them on the kitchen table.

Merlin’s face lit up as he had an idea. “We could have some wine, too,” he suggested.

Arthur gave him a dubious look. “Wine? In the middle of the day? Didn’t you just tell me that you aren’t much of a drinker?” 

Merlin shrugged. “What do we have to do today?”

A smile spread slowly across Arthur’s face. “Alright, bring the wine.”

Merlin looked at the cheese board thoughtfully and nodded before he left the room.

While he was gone, Arthur looked hungrily at the array of food. He pressed on his growling belly as he remembered Merlin slapping his hand. Better to wait for him.  
Merlin soon returned with a chilled bottle of white wine and two glasses in his hand and a grin on his face. He plopped down next to Arthur on the sofa and poured them each a glass.

“To the future?” He grinned, holding out his glass.

“To the future,” Arthur raised his glass. He looked at the wine curiously and sipped it. A wide grin spread across his face. “Wow.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows at him smugly as he took a sip himself. He smiled as he savored the pleasant fruity taste of the wine. “Good?”

“Very,” Arthur responded as he drank more.

Merlin chuckled as he took put a piece of fig and brie on a slice of bread. He smiled at his king as he popped it into his mouth. Arthur eyed the food hungrily. He glanced at Merlin and followed his   
example. He placed a piece of apple on bread with one of the harder cheeses. He hesitantly took a bite. He closed his eyes and he hummed happily as he chewed. Merlin grinned widely at him.

“So what is all of this?” Arthur asked.

“A cheese board.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, I got that. But what makes up the cheese board?”

Merlin screwed up his face in mock concentration. “Cheese…” he paused. “And a board.” He grinned widely as Arthur pushed him. Merlin let out a spluttering laugh as he did his best not to spill his wine. Arthur grinned despite himself.

“So, we’ve got five different cheeses,” Merlin explained between chuckles. “The brie, chevre, this ashy bloomy cheese, tome de savoie, and manchego. Then we have various meats to pair with them; bread and crackers. The fruits are apple, pear, fig, and strawberries. We’ve got some sun-dried tomatoes,” Merlin pointed to the slimy red things he’d fished out of a jar. “Then we’ve got honey, raspberry jam, and chutney.”

“I’m supposed to put it all together?”

Merlin snorted. “No, just try different combinations. See what goes well with what. If you find a favorite, you can stick to that for a while. There aren’t really any rules.”

Arthur nodded and examined the board, pretending to not be overwhelmed by the choices. He hesitantly spread one of the softer cheeses – did Merlin call it chevre? – accompanied by a strawberry and some jam. His eyes lit up at combination of the tart, but sweet, jam with the creamy cheese.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Merlin grinned.

Arthur moaned as he chewed slowly. Merlin’s stomach did a slight somersault at the sound, but he waved it off as being happy to see his best friend happy and alive.

“So, you, a warlock – the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth,” Arthur sneered. “Have spent the last 1400 years sampling cheese and wine?”

Merlin cackled. “I may have taken some time off to explore the wonders of the world.”

Arthur shook his head with a grin. “So, tell me about the world we live in now.”

“Well, it’s very different. It’s far bigger than we ever knew.”

“How much bigger?”

Merlin contemplated his answer before he stood and walked to one of his many bookshelves. After a bit of searching, he sat down next to Arthur and set a map of the British Isles between them.

“This is approximately where Camelot was,” Merlin pointed at the map. “And this is the entirety of Albion. This was Cenrid’s kingdom, Annis’…” he traced the edges of the ancient kingdoms. He pulled a globe over from his desk. “This is the entire world.”

Arthur stared between Merlin, the globe, and the map. “But… where’s Camelot?”

“Here,” Merlin pointed to the British Isles.

Arthur squinted at it.

“This is Albion,” Merlin traced his finger along the globe. “It’s not called that anymore.”

“What do they call it?”

“There are several names. Great Britain, the British Isles…” Merlin paused, examining Arthur to determine how well he was handling the information. “It’s actually made up of several nations, England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland.”

“It’s so small,” Arthur mumbled as he traced the lines on the globe. “But it’s not – we’ve walked all across this land – it is not this small!”

“Compared to the rest of the world it is.”

Arthur gaped at the globe. “This is an accurate map?”

Merlin nodded.

“How do you know?”

Merlin chuckled. “We’ve taken photographs of the planet from space.” Arthur stared at him incredulously. But before he could ask a follow-up question, Merlin continued. “And I’ve seen a fair amount of it for myself.”

“You’ve travelled the world?”

Merlin nodded.

“Tell me about it.”

Merlin opened his mouth and closed it again. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Arthur answered, breathless with wonder.

Merlin grinned at his curiosity. “Would you like to see some pictures?”

“Pictures?”

Merlin sighed. “We’ve developed this… tool… that can capture images perfectly. Here.” Merlin pulled out his phone – an object that Arthur had seen, but Merlin hadn’t explained – and pulled up the camera. He leaned over so both he and Arthur were in the frame, and grinned as he took a photo. “See?” Merlin passed the phone over to Arthur, who stared incredulously at the image of the two of them. Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle at Arthur’s look of complete disgust in the photo.

“But, this is magic?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, it’s technology. See this little thing here?” Merlin points to the camera lens. “That’s a lens which works similarly to our eyes and then by pressing this button, you can take and save a photo.”

Arthur furrowed his brow at the device as he pressed the button over and over again. “What’s it doing now?”

“Recording,” Merlin explained. “When you hold the button down it takes a video.”

“Video?”

“It strings a series of pictures together so it looks like the picture is moving. Here, stop it. And then we can play it back.”

Arthur watched the screen intently as Merlin played the video. When his voice came through the device, he jumped and dropped the phone. He picked it up as he heard Merlin’s voice come from it. The first voice came back through as Arthur’s mouth moved on the screen. He replayed the video.

“Is that… is that what I sound like?” Arthur blanched.

Merlin shrugged. “Pretty much. It’s not the best sound quality, but basically.”

“I sound so… pompous,” Arthur stared at the phone with his mouth hanging open. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that I sound like a complete prat?”

Merlin snorted the wine he’d been sipping as he burst into laughter. Arthur’s steady glare forced him to stifle his laughter long enough to say, “I’m pretty sure I did,” before he howled with laughter.

Arthur’s glare darkened as he watched Merlin laugh uncontrollably. As he thought back to the many times Merlin had called him a prat… he couldn’t stop the smile pulling at his lips. He pushed Merlin’s shoulder again, but this time Merlin was laughing so hard he didn’t fight against it and toppled over onto his side. When Merlin got his case of the giggles under control, he righted himself and grinned at Arthur. Arthur shook his head exasperatedly, but his broad grin betrayed his fondness for the idiot next to him.

“How do you look at the photos you’ve taken?”

“Just swipe,” Merlin reached over and showed him. He chuckled as the screen showed a very unflattering photo Arthur took of himself that looked right up his nose and made him look like he has twenty chins.

“That’s not what I look like,” Arthur protested, and Merlin chuckled again at his vanity.

“Cameras don’t lie,” he teased. “Here,” he took the phone from Arthur and leaned back to snap a photo of him. “Now smile.”

Arthur gave him an awkward, stiff smile that looked more like a snarl.

“Nicely, you royal clotpole.”

When Arthur let out a snort of indignant humor, Merlin snapped a photo.

“There, how’s that?” He handed the phone back to Arthur.

“Better…” Arthur mumbled. “I look so pale though.”

“You have been sleeping at the bottom of a lake for 1400 years,” Merlin snarked.

Arthur pushed him again before munching on some more cheese and fruit.

“Oh, I can’t see myself anymore,” he showed Merlin the screen.

“Mm,” Merlin mumbled through a mouthful of brie. “It has two cameras – one on the front and one on the back. Change it by pressing this.” He pressed the button, and the screen showed him and Arthur again.

“Oh,” Arthur pressed the button a couple of times. He leaned back and snapped a picture of Merlin pushing more brie into his mouth. He snickered. “I think I’ve captured you quite nicely,” he grinned as he showed Merlin. Merlin snorted indignantly.

They continued munching and drinking while Arthur played with the camera for a while.

“Weren’t you going to tell me about the world?” Arthur eventually asked.

Merlin nodded and stood up to get his photo albums.

“Where do you want to start? England? China? Australia? Senegal?” Merlin mumbled through a mouthful of cheese on his way back to Arthur. Arthur stared at him cluelessly. “Oh… you don’t… right. Okay, how about France?”

Merlin showed Arthur where France is on the globe and let him flip through a very old book of photos.

“This is what it looks like now?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Merlin mumbled. “These were taken back … about two hundred years ago. It… well parts of it have changed a lot, but it’s probably closer to what it looks like now than what it did when you were alive.”

“Do you know what it looked like when we were alive?”

Merlin shook his head. “I didn’t see France until many, many years after Gwen passed.

Arthur’s head shot up at the phrase. “Guinevere is… dead?” His voice was small and broken.

Merlin felt a pang in his chest for his friend. “It’s been 1400 years Arthur… I’m the only one that’s immortal.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Because I saw all of our friends die.”

Arthur grimaced at the thought and mumbled an apology. He ran his fingers over the old photos. They were so faded and so brittle… but they had only been around for less than a quarter of the time Merlin had been alive. Yet, he sat in front of Arthur looking as young as he did the last time Arthur saw him. No wrinkles, his skin wasn’t thin or fragile. Just… Merlin. As he always had been. Before he fully realized what he was doing, Arthur reached out and touched Merlin’s hand. Merlin looked at him inquisitively.

“How are you still alive? You’re 1400 years old… and these photos are 200 and … well look at them. They’re faded and fragile and you… you’re just… just as you always have been.” His voice was thick with wonder and a bittersweet combination of heartache for what Merlin must have experienced and gratitude that he had waited all those years and was here when Arthur needed him. Just like he always was. As he met Merlin’s eyes, however, he realized he was still touching the other man’s hand. Hurriedly, he cleared his throat and withdrew. “You know… scrawny and spineless… you’d think after 1400 years you might have managed to get some muscle on you.”

Merlin smirked at the obviously forced insult.

“I don’t know how I’m still alive,” Merlin shrugged. “I just know that I am.”


	9. Chapter 9

By the time that the wine and half the cheese plate were gone, they’d looked through several photobooks Merlin had of France from various times throughout the last two centuries.

Arthur sighed as he closed the last book Merlin had brought over.

“So,” he gave Merlin a blank stare. “What’s for dinner?”

Merlin stared at him, mouth hanging open, searching for a response. He pressed his hand against his already full stomach. His eyes flicked over to the cheese plate, where plenty more food sat, waiting to be eaten. Then Arthur’s mouth twitched upwards into a smile, and Merlin let out a belt of laughter. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle in response.

“More wine?” Merlin suggested.

Arthur made his “not a bad idea” face and nodded. He laughed as he watched Merlin stagger slightly when he got up to get another bottle.

“Was France a country of magic?” Arthur asked Merlin when he returned.

Merlin scrunched up his face. “Yes and no…”

“What kind of answer is that?”

Merlin couldn’t help but smirk at the playfully harsh tone in Arthur’s voice. “They were much like Albion. There were many people there who had magic, but… by the time I got there… Christianity had taken over and people with magic were considered evil. Eventually I became entrenched in their magic groups. There were many different factions. Some were peaceful, like the druids… some were more like Morgana – seeking revenge. But most… most just wanted to live their lives; do their jobs, find a partner, make a family, and care for them.”

“They just wanted to live?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding fragile as his eyes widen in a sad realization.

“Mmhmm, I think that’s what most people want. Throughout history, that’s what minorities seem to fight for. They want to be treated with basic respect and just be able to live.”

“Minorities?”

“Hm – like,” Merlin paused, struggling to find a good way to explain such a complicated concept while he was marinating in wine. “the people who are different.”

“Different how?”

“In any way really.” Merlin gestured clumsily with his wine glass, almost spilling some on Arthur. He gave a small smile of apology when Arthur glared at him. “Sometimes being different is not having the money to support yourself, sometimes it’s having magic, having a different color skin, having a different religion, eating different things.”

Arthur snorted. “Eating different things doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but it does – it has.” Merlin smirked back. “I know it seems so… paltry… but a lot of things that have caused wars are.”

“Paltry?”

“Fickle. Silly. Ridiculous, even.”

Arthur nodded but his brows were still knit together in confusion. Merlin took a deep breath and tried to think away his tipsiness. He probably should’ve planned this conversation before starting it. And probably he shouldn’t have started it after several glasses of wine. Oh well, here goes nothing.

“So pretty much in our society nowadays, there’s what we consider ‘normal’ – that’s a straight, white, cis, wealthy, able-bodied man. The more people deter from that normal, the more marginalized they are.”

Arthur stared at him blankly, not catching half the words that had just fell out of Merlin’s mouth. His brain grasped onto one of the last ones. “Marginalized?”

Merlin scrunched up his face as he chewed. “Made to feel different, weird, abnormal, and it’s often layered with power dynamics and oppression.”  
Arthur had been nodding at the beginning of the sentence. Even if he was the King of Camelot, he was familiar with the pain that came with feeling alone and … left out. But the rest of it… his face fell slack as his mind was busy trying to catch up. Merlin stifled a chuckle, but he couldn’t blame Arthur for being confused. People had, afterall, spent their careers and lives studying and explaining these concepts.

“Okay so the ‘normal’ – they’re the ones with the power.” Merlin backtracked, using finger quotes around the “normal.”

“What are you doing with your fingers?” Arthur interrupted. “You casting a spell? Signaling someone?” He glanced over his shoulder to check kitchen behind him.

“Uh…” Merlin floundered for a moment before launching into a rather unnecessarily long-winded explanation of finger quotes in modern times.

“So… it’s sarcasm?” Arthur asked when Merlin finally paused to drink more wine.

Merlin wiggled his head back and forth as if to say ‘yes and no’. Arthur was getting pretty sick of that answer. “It’s not just sarcasm. It’s also used – like how I used it – I was being a bit sarcastic when I said normal, because I don’t really believe there’s normal and not normal. There’s just variation. But my point was more that there are people that society at large considers to be normal. So, it’s kind of using their word while acknowledging that I don’t believe in the way they use it… does that make sense?”

Arthur stared at him for a moment, brows furrowed. “Yup,” he finally said, popping the “p”. He really wasn’t sure if he followed it or not, but he decided he’d had enough of it anyway.

“Oh good,” Merlin responded distractedly, refilling his glass. “Where was I?”

By this point Arthur couldn’t remember what he’d asked, let alone what had led to him asking it. He just shook his head, frowning. “Something about normal,” he mumbled dumbly.

Merlin’s eyes wandered around the room as he tried to remember. “Oh! The people who are ‘normal’ – that is, considered to be normal,” Arthur was nodding his head impatiently, willing Merlin to just hurry up and make his point, even if he, Arthur, had been the one to derail him in the first place. “They are usually in positions of power – often making or at least enforcing the laws of the land. For example, your father,” Arthur bristled. “He considered himself to be normal because he didn’t practice magic, well…” Merlin pulled a face as he opened his mouth to make a snarky comment about Uther’s practice of magic. He caught himself at the last moment, though, and decided against it. “And because he was the king, he was able to ban the practice of magic and anyone who spoke up in defense of themselves, or even of others, were labeled traitors because your father had all the power and he had them killed or banished.”

“But. He did that to protect the innocent people who were being hurt by magic.”

Merlin snorted. “That’s what he had people believe. And that method has been used over and over again to oppress people who are different. People who have power lead everyone else to believe that those who are different are dangerous and untrustworthy. Then people are too scared to open themselves up to interact with the ‘others,’ which is how they’d learn that the others aren’t inherently dangerous. In Camelot, everyone was terrified of even knowing a sorcerer because Uther might lock his own citizens up or even sentence them to death just for speaking to one. And when there’s no interaction between different groups, there’s no one who knows what people with magic were actually like. So, people believe what they’re told. They have no evidence that tells them that they shouldn’t. No one could prove that Uther’s claims were lies. They didn’t have the evidence because they were too scared to find it. And then, even if they did find it, if they wanted to use it, they’d have to admit to consorting with sorcerers, which was a crime punishable by death. So, because Uther had the power, he was able to make people with magic outcasts and to make any citizens of Camelot too scared of their own personal safety to speak against him.” Merlin took a deep breath, completely unprepared for the anger he was sure he was going to receive from Arthur. After a moment passed in silence, he looked up at Arthur.

He sat running his hands thoughtfully along his wine glass. There was a deep sadness in his eyes when he met Merlin’s. Merlin paused, his mouth shut, waiting for Arthur to process whatever it was that he needed to process.

“I just…” Arthur mumbled, pressing his fingers against his brow. “I understand what you’re saying, but… but…” he ran his hands through his hair, face scrunched up in pain. “How do I know that you’re telling me the truth?” Merlin inhaled sharply, as if he’d been physically struck, but he took a moment to breathe through the pain. The whine in Arthur’s voice made it perfectly clear that it hurt him to voice his doubts.

“I don’t know if I have that answer for you, Arthur,” he said gently once he was confident his voice wouldn’t betray his hurt feelings. “I think that’s something you have to work out on your own.”  
Arthur sighed, his voice catching slightly on the lump forming in his throat. “I…” he closed his eyes, and Merlin noticed tears were forming in their corners. “I believe you, Merlin, after all this time, how could I not? You saved my life so many times… you waited for me for 1400 years, but… but what if that is exactly it?” His voice cracked and he shoved his face into his hands. “What if you are just some incredibly patient and devoted pawn in magic’s quest of evil?”

Merlin smiled softly, thinking that “incredibly patient and devoted” was probably the best compliment Arthur had ever given him.

“But how could that be true when you’re so utterly useless,” Arthur wailed.

Merlin nodded – there it was. A compliment from Arthur was never complete without an insult. He took a deep breath as he tried to think of something to comfort his best friend. “You’re giving me too much credit, Arthur,” he eventually quipped.

Arthur lifted his head out of his hands to look at Merlin, his eyes red and swollen.

“You thought I was useless as a servant because I was always too busy trying to save you from either your own stupidity or your father’s enemies. But for me to be pretending to be useless while pretending to be your friend while all the while prepping you to be the knight in some evil plan? And then waiting for you for 1400 years and being able to continue the act?” Merlin scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m not that good of an actor, Arthur. You know me. You know I’m rubbish at lying. I wouldn’t have been able to keep all those secrets.”

Merlin’s comments, at least, made Arthur smile as he wiped the tears from his face. “You’re right,” he chuckled. “You’re far too inept to pull that off.”

Merlin smiled, his eyes crinkling, at the insult. “I guess, the only other thing I can say is… have I ever betrayed you? Have I ever let you down?”  
Arthur looked at him seriously. “Only when you didn’t come to Camlann with us.”

Merlin winced. “And I explained that, and I was there, eventually. I came for you. I did. You remember. I brought you all the way to the lake. I-” his voice cracked at the painful memories. “I did all I could to save you, to support you.”

Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat, studying Merlin as he avoided Arthur’s gaze. He thought of all the times that Merlin was there, Merlin had his back, even when he thought Arthur was doing the wrong thing. He always did what he could. But his father had raised him. How could he admit that his father – his only parent – had lied to him his whole life? He opened his mouth to ask Merlin this when his memory was overrun by the image of his father’s ghost scowling at him. His father’s ghost had tried to kill his wife. He didn’t believe that Arthur was fit for the throne, but Merlin. Merlin had supported him until the end. Past the end, really, he supposed, as he sat next to him 1400 years after his own death. Even with all the vile things Arthur had done to Merlin’s people.  
Merlin finally met his gaze and Arthur felt love and trust in his gaze. While he knew his father had loved him, that love was conditional. The love he could feel from Merlin wasn’t. It was completely unconditional. Arthur had fought against Merlin’s people his whole life, but Merlin was still here by his side supporting him. His father wasn’t capable of that. Not for Arthur, anyway. How many times had Uther made it clear that Arthur had to live up to his expectations if he was to become king?

Slowly, Arthur realized that, for the first time since he woke up, he felt at home. Looking into Merlin’s blue eyes, eating more than he needed and smelling the wine, surrounded by things that were completely foreign to him, he felt like he belonged. Perhaps he hadn’t been awake very long, and of course he hadn’t been conscious of the 1400 years that had passed, but he still felt as though some part of him was aware of the time passing. It felt like he had been alone for so very long. He smiled, not realizing he’d been staring at Merlin in silence for several long minutes. Merlin, whose heart was beating inexplicably fast, felt like he could finally breathe again when Arthur smiled at him.

“You were always there.” Arthur mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish about his tears. It must be the wine, he reasoned. Yes, this new wine was definitely much stronger than what he’d been used to. His chest warms when Merlin returns his smile.

“And I always will be.”

Arthur’s heart fluttered uncomfortably. They were quiet for several minutes as they both processed the conversation. “I think I get what you’re saying,” Arthur eventually said.

“About what?”

“Miners. Minerties… the people that are treated badly because they’re different.”

“Ah yes. Did I finish making my point on that?”

Arthur laughed, loudly and unabashed. “I really don’t know.”

Merlin chuckled along with him. “Me neither.” Merlin finishes his glass while trying to remember. “Oh, I think I was saying that the more different you are from the ‘norm,’ the more marginalized you are, and the less power you have.”

Arthur nodded, filling up both their glasses. “I think that makes sense.”

“So if the norm today is a straight, white, cis, able-bodied, wealthy man, the further someone is from each of those categories, the less power they have. So if all other assets are the same, a man who is poor has less power than a wealthy man. And a poor woman has less power than the poor man. A poor disabled woman has less power than the poor able-bodied woman. Does that make sense?”

“What do you mean disabled and able-bodied?”

“It can mean a lot of things, but if someone has a physical disability it means they have trouble moving around. Lots of different ways, but the most easily recognizable would be if they’re missing a limb or need a cane to walk.”

“Oh, alright.” Arthur pauses to chew and swallow. “Yeah, that makes sense. What about a disabled poor man? Where would he fit?”

“Hm, so that’s where it gets a bit trickier because not all categories are equal, so it really depends on the individual circumstance. If all other things were equal, a poor disabled man would probably have about the same amount of power as a poor woman, because they each have two ways that they are different from the norm. But some categories matter much more than others, like wealth. If you’re wealthy, you can get away with deviating from the norm much more than if you’re poor. Of course, it really depends on the situation though.”

Arthur nodded. “You didn’t mention magic. In your list of what’s normal.”

“Hm, that’s because people with magic have been oppressed for so long and so effectively, most people don’t believe it’s real.”

Arthur blanched. “What- what do they mean they don’t think it’s real? What about-” Arthur stammered quite eloquently for almost an entire minute. “Dragons? Witches?”

“There aren’t any living dragons anymore. They’ve been gone for centuries. And witches are a thing of fairy tales now. One of the integral parts of the process of oppression is to hide all evidence that those people exist, now or ever. They’ve succeeded in that with magic.”

“How?”

Merlin sighed and pulled out a very dusty set of books from the corner of the room. “Witch-hunts.” He said simply, a pained expression on his face as he set the books down next to Arthur. Arthur flipped through the pages, skimming page after page describing the atrocities that those accused of witchcraft had been subjected to for centuries. Picture after picture of torture devices. Arthur’s stomach churned. He reached a graphic drawing and description of the burning of a particularly powerful witch and he had to shut the book. He ran his hands through his hair.

“So they were hunted?”

“All over the world. With a tenacity would have surprised even your father.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin before quickly looking away, unable to watch the pain in his face.

“Did you know her?”

“Who?”

Arthur opened the book to the picture that had sent him over the edge. He couldn’t even bring himself to look back at it.

“Ah, La Voisin, yes. Quite well, actually. She used her magic to heal.”

“And they killed her for that?”

Merlin nodded, tears shining in his eyes. “People that she cured of incurable diseases betrayed her and her secret.”

“That’s awful.”

“People do awful things when they’re scared.”

“Mmm,” Arthur nodded, fingers tracing over the drawing of La Voisin burning at the stake.

“What?” Merling asked, blinking back his tears and noticing a change in his friend’s composure.

“No… it’s just that…” Arthur trailed off, shaking his head. When he looked up at Merlin, however, he knew it was best to voice his concerns. “I lost both my parents to magic… I just… I understand what you’re saying… that it’s how you use it and not if… and people shouldn’t be hunted or hurt if they use magic to help others… and isn’t the crime hurting people? Not using magic. But my whole life… My father hurt so many people just for using magic. How is that justified? But then my mother she… because of magic… and then my father…”

“Arthur,” Merlin took a deep, steadying breath. “There’s something you need to know about your mother’s death.”

Arthur looked up at him, his pale blue eyes wide in expectation and swimming with pain. Merlin just wanted to wrap his arms around him and make the pain disappear.

“Do you remember when Morgause let you see your mother?”

A shadow darkened Arthur’s gaze. He gave a slight nod, Merlin would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been watching so closely.

“I lied.”

He furrows his brow at Merlin, obviously not understanding his.

“When you were going to kill your father…”

He drew back from Merlin as if he’d been stung, disbelief creasing his face. As he searched Merlin’s face, his disbelief gave way to rising anger.

“When I told you that what your mother said to you were Morgause’s words… that it was all a lie… I was the one that lied.”  
Arthur swallowed hard, trying to quell the anger until he had heard Merlin out, but the burn of anger and betrayal seethed through him. He pressed his hands against the floor to calm the urge to wield his sword. “What?” he growled through clenched teeth.

“You were born of magic.”

Arthur stared at him, tears forming in his eyes. He looked away, his mouth pulled into a thin, tight line as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. “You… lied…” His voice was breathless and thick. “YOU LIED TO ME!” Arthur yelled. Merlin instinctively flinched away from him and Arthur stood quickly, forcing himself to walk away from Merlin before he did something he’d later regret.

“Yes.”

Arthur glared at him as he angrily paced around the room, hands running and tugging at his hair. He opened and closed his mouth several times, turning to ask Merlin questions. Every time, anger swelled in his chest when he looked at the man he thought was his best friend, and he whipped his head around in disgust. Eventually he was able to say, “So it was true? My father caused… was responsible for my mother’s death?”

“Yes.” Merlin met his gaze, blue eyes piercing into Arthur’s heart. Merlin broke their gaze and looked down at his hands in his lap.

“Why? How? How could you do this to me? Why did you protect him?” Arthur’s stomach was doing flips and his head was beginning to swim, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the wine or the shock. (Little did he know, just like with his tears, the wine was completely innocent.) He had so many questions racing through his head it began to ache. He leaned heavily against the back of the couch, his eyes boring holes in the well-worn cushions. “He hunted your people… he would have had you killed.”

There was, what felt like, a very long pause before Merlin responded in a voice so soft, so gentle, so full of tears that were desperately being held back, that it immediately softened Arthur’s anger.

“Could you have ever forgiven yourself if you had killed him?”

The rage in Arthur’s chest calmed as he considered this. He braced himself against the couch, wincing at the memory of the guilt twisting his stomach after he had confronted his father. But the image of his mother’s spirit talking to him fanned the flames of his rage back up to a healthy pyre. “It it’s true…”

“You would have never known for sure if it was true…” Merlin said matter-of-factly. “I’m not even sure how much of it was…”

Arthur furrowed his brow. He looked at Merlin, his anger at his friend slowly withering despite his hesitation to believe him. “You don’t?”

“I know some of it is true, but I don’t know the whole story.”

Arthur’s shoulders slump and he relaxes his grip on the sofa. “What parts do you know to be true?”

Merlin glanced up at him, relieved to see some of the tenseness leave Arthur’s frame. “Your father did look to Nimueh for help… You parents had been unable to have a child, so he asked for her to use magic to provide him with an heir. He would have understood that magic needs to take a life to give a life, that’s something that is well-known and accepted throughout the Old Religion, and it’s one thing Nimueh was always clear about. But… Nimueh… she does not always make it clear whose life is being taken. It’s possible…. I don’t know the circumstances… but it is possible that your father wagered his own life, but it was your mother’s that was taken.”

Arthur took a raspy, sharp inhale before burying his face in his hands.

“We may never know, but if that is the truth… your father may have truly felt betrayed, and justly so.”

Arthur sighed heavily and walked around to slump down onto the couch. They sat in silence for several minutes, Merlin watching Arthur closely.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“I didn’t know until you did. I learned about it with you, from your mother.” Merlin took a deep sigh. “When we got back to Camelot, I confronted Gaius about it. He didn’t deny it – I knew from the look on his face that what your mother told you was true. But he never confirmed how much of it was true. When I found you, you had him defenseless and at the end of your sword. What else could I have said to stop you from killing him?”

“You could’ve let me kill him.”

Merlin take a long, slow inhale. “I couldn’t watch what killing your own father would do to you.”

“But it would’ve been the right thing to do,” Arthur snapped. “He deserved to die for his hypocrisy.”

“Perhaps, but not at your hands.”

“But he hunted your people,” Arthur’s voice cracked as he let his tears flow freely. “For his mistake. He blames everyone except for himself.”

“Yes. He did.”

Arthur shook his head as his body wracked with raw sobs.

“How can you forgive him for that?”

“I haven’t. But I believe in your power to change it.”

“But you let me believe that magic is evil. For years.”

Merlin sighed he sat next to Arthur and gently put a hand on his back. When his touch wasn’t rejected, he rubbed slow and gentle circles into his back. “What would you have had me done?” He paused for a while before adding, “Allow you to kill your father for my own gain?”

Arthur winced away from his words. “No.”

“He may have been my oppressor Arthur, but he was still your father – the only family you had left. I couldn’t be responsible for you losing that.”

Arthur lets out a tearful sigh. “You do too much for me Merlin.”

“You would have done the same for me.”

Arthur forced a small smile as he shook his head. He wasn’t sure that he would have. After he gained his composure, he wiped his tears on his sleeve and Merlin passed him some tissues. “You said… Nimueh was not always transparent about her intentions?”

“She wasn’t. Even if the person making the deal is clear on their intentions…”

“How do you know?”

“She did something similar to me.”

Arthur withdrew from his touch, looking at him with alarmed concern. “What?”

“I made it clear that she was to take my life in order to save yours, but she tried to take my mother’s.”

“What?” Arthur stared at him, wide eyed. Merlin had intended to die for him?

“Back… in the first year I was in Camelot. When you were bitten by the Questing Beast. You were going to die.”

“And you gave your life instead?”

Merlin nodded, not meeting Arthur’s gaze. Arthur, on the other hand, shook his head, feeling entirely overwhelmed. 

“But it wasn’t my life she took.”

“So, it’s possible that Father tried to wager his own life…”

“It’s possible, but I can’t tell you that that is for sure what happened.”

“Even if he had, I see no reason for him to hunt down people with magic for decades over a mistake that he made.”

“It depends on how clear he was that it was his life was to be taken. I was certainly out for vengeance when she tried to kill my mother.”

Arthur couldn’t help but to snort indignantly at that. “Out for vengeance?”

Merlin just nodded. Arthur shook his head with a small smile.

“But you, Father… he did the Great Purge, punishing hundreds of sorcerers for one’s mistake. That’s not justice.”

“I agree.”

“You met Nimueh?”

Merlin nodded.

“So, Father never even held her accountable for her actions. He took it out on others instead.”

“She was a high priestess – it’s not quite the same as sentencing druids to death.”

Arthur mumbled. He supposed that made sense. “How did your mother survive?”

“I ah…” Merlin squirmed, not particularly wanting to remember that day. “I went back to Nimueh. And I uh…” He paused again, putting on a thick (and rather poorly done) Italian accent in an (even poorer) attempt at levity. “I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.” While Merlin smirked at his pop culture reference, Arthur just stared at him, a mixture of confusion and disgust on his face.

“What?”

“Uh, oh, nothing,” Merlin mumbled, feeling quite stupid that he didn’t realize sooner that there was no way Arthur would get the reference. “I … it was Nimueh’s life that ended up being sacrificed.”

“Oh.” Arthur paused, examining Merlin. “You killed her?”

Merlin nodded solemnly.

“You killed your own to protect me?”

Merlin furrowed his brow. “I wouldn’t put it like that… Nimueh… she was much more like your father than either would’ve cared to admit.”

Arthur nodded solemnly. He wasn’t sure that he completely understood, but he decided he understood enough, for now at least.


End file.
